


Siria Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

by chamberinmyheart



Series: Siria Potter [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Sirius Black Never Went to Azkaban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 16:37:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 49,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13594098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamberinmyheart/pseuds/chamberinmyheart
Summary: Siria Potter finds herself with more questions than ever as she enters her third year at Hogwarts. Who is Peter Pettigrew? Where does Sirius keep going? Why is she so affected by Dementors? What is she supposed to do when she's breathless and stumbling over herself because of Alice Travers? and how is supposed to learn when she's kept up by nightmares and rumors?





	1. Questions

**Questions**  


Siria Potter was a highly unusual girl in many ways (B3, 1). For one, Siria Potter was a witch, fresh from her second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For another, through her persistently messy hair, on her forehead, was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt. This scar made Siria extremely unusual, even in the wizarding world. It marked her as having survived the unblockable Killing Curse, when she was only a toddler. The same curse had killed both of her parents and was why Siria Potter sat, on this fine summer day, at the dining room table of her Godfather’s house.  
“Now, remember,” her Godfather insisted, for at least the fifth time since breakfast, while pointing at the twelve of her watch, “I won’t really be in trouble.”  
“If you hadn’t have told me, I wouldn’t have worried.” Siria repeated. The kind grey eyes of her godfather looked more worried than her green ones. Sirius Black was a handsome man with elegant features. When he moved, he looked noble. Even now, as he knelt before his Goddaughter, he looked more like a king than a knight.  
“You’ll be with Remus and Kreacher is staying with me. It’ll be fine.” Siria turned back to her book, Animagi. Sirius sighed, but rose to his feet and kissed her forehead.  
“You manage to find danger at Hogwarts, how can I not worry about you finding it here?” He asked.  
This was another reason Siria Potter was unusual. Though she didn’t always make a point to be safe, trouble found her—often. Part of Siria wondered if the Killing Curse Tom had cast was trying to finish her off. While most of the wizarding world referred to him as Lord Voldemort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or You-Know-Who, Siria made it a point to call him Tom. It was Tom Riddle who grew up to kill Siria’s parents and so many others. As a teenager, he was very used to charming people into giving him what he wanted. As an adult, he had been very used to terrorizing people into giving him what he wanted.  
Tom had, however, failed three times to kill Siria. First, when he killed her parents and gave her the lightning bolt scar. Second, at the end of her first year at Hogwarts, when he wanted the Sorcerer’s Stone. Finally, just a few weeks ago, right before finals, in the Chamber of Secrets. Tom could not charm or terrify Siria, but it seemed to only worry Sirius more. It was because of her most recent run in with Tom that Sirius was so hesitant to leave her today.  
“If you’re that worried, you could always bring me or go when I’m at the Dursleys.” Siria suggested.  
“No.” Sirius gave a rather pained smile, as if someone had kicked him and he didn’t want them to know it hurt, “It has to be today, and I don’t want you anywhere near those guards.” As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. “That’ll be Remus.” He said without taking his eyes off her face.  
The door opened and closed, knocking at Number 12 Grimmauld Place was a formality; Siria often thought she was the only one without a key. “You’re doing it again.” Siria told him.  
“What?” He asked in sincere innocence.  
“Looking at me like, if you look away, I’m going to disappear.” He patted her head.  
“Sometimes, I worry you will,” but he turned to greet Remus.  
Remus Lupin was just younger than Sirius, but no one could guess by looking at them. Sirius’s hair was a lustrous black, while grey flecks sprinkled Remus’s brown hair. A few wrinkles had already formed around Remus’s eyes and smile, while Sirius had none. Nearly every time Siria saw Remus, he had a new injury. With how scratched up he always was, it looked as if he owned a rather vicious cat that hated him.  
“Hello, Siria.” Remus smiled from the doorway. Siria waved back.  
“Hello, Remus. Could you pick a safer place for your next date?” She turned her eyes on Sirius.  
“It isn’t a date.” Sirius refuted.  
“You won't date Chloe, you won’t date Remus, I’m worried about you.” She grinned.  
“You’d be fine with either?”  
“I’d be fine with anyone that wasn’t Tom or Snape.” Siria imagine there may be other people she would she wouldn’t want to see Sirius with, but Tom and Snape, her Potions professor, were two she wouldn’t stand for.  
“A conversation for another time, surely.” Remus’s face blushed. He tapped his watch, “mustn’t be late. Are you ready?”  
“Almost,” Sirius went from a tall, elegant man to being a bear of a dog.  
“Snuffles?” Siria rose from her chair and hugged the dog. “I know it’s you, but I really have missed my friend and oldest friend.” She told him and she scratched behind his ears and under his chin.  
For as long as Siria could remember, Snuffles had been there. After the death of her parents, Siria was sent to live with her mother’s sister’s family. They were the most normal people in the neighborhood, the Dursleys. Dudley Dursley, Siria’s cousin, had made a point to stop anyone befriending Siria, or else they would be bullied by him and his gang. Snuffles, who was Sirius in a way the Dursleys had never seen, had been her only friend. As much as Siria now knew Sirius and Snuffles were the same, she had missed the behemoth dog.  
“You can’t be serious” Remus shook his head. Siria laughed as Sirius played up being a dog by licking the side of her face.  
“He’s always Sirius!” She laughed. Remus looked firmly at Sirius, who stopped wagging his tail.  
“If you’re revealed, there will be more than galleons to pay.” said Remus. Snuffles’s head drooped down as he pleaded with his large, dog eyes, but Sirius was the one to cave in. A few minutes later, they left as Remus and Sirius.

Siria’s green eyes watched the elaborate third hand of her watch snap from 3 o’clock to 5 o’clock and stay at 12 o’clock. She placed her thumb over the face of the watch and took a deep breath. Even though Sirius had assured her he was fine, knowing that 12 o’clock meant he was somewhere dangerous made her heart sink.  
The dining room went from being lively and fun to empty and cold. She went from being comfortable and happy to uneasy and sad. This had been happening lately. One moment, Siria was fine, but, the moment it was quiet, she was almost scared. Her eyes closed and she tried to focus on the leaf beneath her tongue. It was bitter and made her want to spit it out. Everything she ate tasted like it was covered in ginger because of the leaf. Even her water tasted like ginger.  
“Mistress?” A deep, croaking voice, like bullfrog asked. Siria startled and stumbled back with a gasp. It was Kreacher.  
“I’m—I’m fine.” She stammered.  
“Master should not be teaching such dangerous things.” Kreacher told her. The house elf’s bulging, pleading eyes peered up at her.  
“I want to learn.” She picked Animagi off the table. “Would you rather I try to teach myself?” Siria asked as they walked up the stairs.  
The house elf followed behind her, as he had taken to whenever she was out of Sirius’s line of sight. He kept her within arms reach. It made her feel like they thought she was going to disappear if they blinked. She wasn’t that prone to danger.  
Kreacher’s croaking voice told her “Kreacher would rather Mistress not do such dangerous magic.”  
“Kreacher is in luck. Sirius won’t teach me until I can keep a leaf under my tongue for two months.” She sighed and placed the book on her pastel yellow desk. Even though it was only her third summer in the room, it felt more like home than the Dursleys’ ever had.  
When Siria was eleven and the Dursleys had learned they couldn’t beat or bully the magic out of her, she had been allowed to spend the rest of her summer with Sirius. He had promised her that, once she learned to turn beetles into buttons, they could start on her turning into an animal. Just this last year, Siria learned it in school and Sirius was true to his word.  
Animagi or Animagus, as the book explained, are witches and wizards that can turn into an animal. Those who are successful will turn into the same animal for the rest of their lives. The animal is not determined by will, but by the person’s traits. It is a very dangerous process, to the point that the book doesn’t say how one becomes an Animagus.  
All Sirius had told her so far was she had to be able to keep the same mandrake leaf under her tongue for one lunar cycle. Rather than starting on a cycle now, he wanted her to focus on not eating her leaf, which was apparently his and her father’s biggest problem during the process. She had done well until dinner last night, when she swallowed her leaf with a bite of chicken. It was looking like their biggest problem would be hers.

The rest of the first three weeks for summer passed too quickly for Siria. They spent more time on Helping Hands, a book of spells, potions, and balms for healing, than on anything else. Sirius had insisted on doing two chapters of math problems every day because “you’ll need it for next summer.” He wouldn’t answer more, but the more she thought about it, the less she really wanted to know. It wasn’t until her last few days that they did so much as touch Transfiguration. They hadn’t dueled at all and it took most of her focus to keep her signs of disappointment to a minimum. Sirius ruffled the top of her messy hair.  
“We have the rest of summer to duel,” he reminded her. “You can make a list of spells you want to learn at their place and we’ll practice once you’re back.”  
“What if I don’t come back?” She did her best to ask the question in a casual voice, but his expression shifted, from the worried one he had worn all summer, to panic. His eyes were wide as dinner plates and his breath seemed to escape him, just like his words.  
“If you… It would be fine… I won't make you… That is…” although none of his sentences were finished, she knew where they were all going. Siria didn’t really want to be mean. She didn’t know why she was being mean. Lately, she had just felt like being mean and couldn’t stop herself. It was a different mean than she was being sarcastic, but she hadn’t figured it out yet.  
“Of course I’m coming back, but you have the same look since I beat Tom,” Siria snapped. He cracked a smile at the name.  
“Well,” he looked directly at her and took in her face. “Most people don’t have a goddaughter who is brave, clever, and reckless enough to go after Voldemort, twice in two years.”  
“To be fair, I didn’t know either time until I was there.” She said, but her eyes were burning with determination, as if she were going to charge after Voldemort today.  
“Are you saying that would have stopped you?” He asked, but knew the answer.  
“No, but I might have handled things differently.” She didn’t really know if this were true.  
The minute hand of her silver watch ticked. They would be late, but she didn’t want to go anyway. Mrs. & Mr. Dursley, with their son Dudley, of Number Four Privet Drive thought they were the picture of normal. Their house was full of expensive, nice things that served no purpose other than showing wealth. For the purpose of bragging about themselves, they had a very lush, green garden with a variety of flowers and bushes.  
Aunt Petunia was a thin woman with long neck for poking into the neighbors’ yards. Uncle Vernon was a large man with a thick mustache and no neck. He owned a company that dealt with drills and, just last summer, had a very good business deal with a Mr. Mason. This business deal allowed them to buy a vacation home in Majorca, which they did not want Siria anywhere near. It was because of this that Siria, who was previously supposed to spend her first week of summer with them, would be spending her fourth. Sirius had planned for her to return the Sunday of her birthday week, which, to her, was one of the best presents ever.  
Knowing they would only get more late, she said good-bye to Kreacher and they loaded up Sirius’s Austin Healey Sprite with her trunk. She wanted to kick and scream and beg him not to make her go, but that was a different type of mean than her non-sarcastic one. No matter how much she wanted to protest, Siria knew Sirius wanted her to stay even more than she did. Over and over and over again, she reminded herself that this was to keep her safe. This one, single, week was to keep her safe.  
“Did you pack all your books?” Sirius asked again.  
“If I forgot any, you can send them.” She cracked a smile. He made it seem like she was going somewhere their post couldn’t go, or else somewhere Kreacher couldn’t Apparate.  
“If you need anything—”  
“What I need is for you to get along with Kreacher.” She fiddled with her necklace. It was a small, silver S and even smaller star. Sirius had given it to her on her first Christmas at Hogwarts. Though he had been giving her things for years, it was the first gift he could put his name, not Snuffles’s, on.  
“I know you two have your differences, but look at Ron and Hermione. They couldn't be more different, but they’re both in Gryffindor and my best friends.” Siria told him. Ron and Hermione agreed to disagree on most points: when to do homework, taking notes, and hobbies. Hermione was a do-it-right-away and take-notes-on-everything kind of girl. Ron was very good at procrastinating and taking notes off of Hermione’s notes.  
He understood how much Siria loved Quidditch, the best sport in the world. Though Hermione seemed terrified whenever Siria had a match, she was supportive. In Hermione’s defense, Siria’s broom was jinxed in her first match and she’d fallen off when her arm got broken last year. Quidditch was worth it though. Two teams of seven brooms and three goals, one Quaffle for the Chaser to score through the goals, one Keeper to block the goals, two Beaters to send the two Bludgers at the other team, and one golden Snitch for each team’s Seeker to chase after.  
Next to Hermione and Ron, Siria missed Quidditch and flying most. Sirius had kept her busy with healing and Transfiguration, but they didn’t compare to flying. She hoped that, if she managed to keep control of her temper, he would let her go flying when she returned. At this point, being on a broom may be even better than dueling.  
Sirius parked along the curb in front of Number Four Privet Drive. Siria’s chest trembled as she took a breath. They looked at the door through the car window. “Life is doing things you don’t want, sometimes, right?” Siria tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth, much like her gaze, fell to her lap.  
“Hey,” Sirius lightly held her wrist and watch. “It’s seven days,”  
“Of Twenty-Four hours,” she let her eyes wander to her watch.  
“So it’s only a hundred sixty-eight hours,” there was a smile in his voice, like the time would fly by. They both knew he was just trying to be strong.  
“Which is just ten thousand and eighty minutes.” She smiled weakly in return.  
“With how much you’ll be reading and sleeping, it’ll pass in a blink.”  
There was no way her time with the Dursleys would pass in the blink of an eye or even a thousand blinks, but there was no fighting this. Professor Dumbledore had explained the importance of Siria being accepted into the home of her Aunt Petunia enough. Their seat belts unbuckled and car doors opened. If there was no fighting it, she was going to accept it as well as she could. Siria took a deep, swelling breath then straightened herself up and stepped out of the car.  
This would be the first summer the Dursleys wouldn’t get her down. She was going to be happy for Sirius and show him just how good she could be. With her best smile in place, Siria closed the car boot. Sirius was also wearing his best smile. It put a dash of genuinity into hers because it felt like their battle paint. The Dursleys wouldn’t know what hit them.  
Although the Dursleys looked at Sirius and Siria like they were muddy, drooling slugs, they were let in. Unlike most of their guests, no one offered to take Sirius’s coat or if he’d like a cuppa. He didn’t mind. Sirius placed Siria’s trunk on the floor of the entryway and flicked it open. Aunt Petunia cranked her long, thin neck over the case, but it was only clothes and a few perfectly normal books with motionless pictures and nothing about magic. Uncle Vernon had Siria slide the clothes around to show there wasn’t anything magically under them.  
What the Dursleys didn’t know was that, though the contents they would see were perfectly ordinary, the trunk was not. Sirius had given it to Siria as a Christmas present last year. The trunk, which had star inside a dial, opened to five different settings. As the orange point of the start was up, it opened to the actual dimensions of the trunk. Three of the other points opened to rooms and the final opened to a depth for her old school trunk.  
“They really do hate magic, don’t they?” Sirius sighed. He placed her trunk on the floor, at the end of the bed. Siria shrugged. She pulled the centre front of her jacket out, which revealed the lightly padded interior and what was unmistakably her wand.  
“Emergencies only,” he reminded her “and only if you can’t take the Knight Bus.”  
“I know.” Siria rolled her eyes and patted her jacket down. She knew not to do magic in front of Muggles and that she wasn’t supposed to do magic outside of school. It was only at Sirius’s, when he was there, that he allowed her to, and he wasn’t supposed to.  
“Though, if Dudley gives you hard enough of a time…” Sirius locked eyes with her and raised an eyebrow.  
“There’ll be more than galleons to pay” she quoted Remus. Sirius sighed and looked at his watch.  
“Look at that, just started and you’re already almost done.” He tried to be optimistic. Sirius patted her head and hugged her. His warmth and heartbreak over letting her go for a week was endearing. Her resolve and smile were starting to shake. “It’s just a week” they assured the other and cracked for a moment.  
“PICK UP!” Chloe’s voice screamed from Sirius’s pocket. They stumbled apart and he flipped the phone open. “Changed my ringtone” he gave an uncomfortable smile. Chloe wasn’t the one on the other end; it was Remus. Whatever he said made Sirius give Siria that look. The one he had been giving her since he saw her at Kings’ Cross. The one with a slight crease in his forehead, like he was worried and trying hard to not to be. The one she had already grown sick of. The one that made her feel he thought she was going to disappear.  
“I’m just dropping Siria off.” Sirius placed the phone to his chest and kissed Siria’s forehead. “I’ve got to so, but I’ll see you in a week, okay—do not leave the Durlseys’!” He cracked through the air. Siria ran downstairs and out to his car. Why had he Apparated when he brought the car? Wouldn’t he need it to pick her up? What happened to make him leave?  
Siria Potter stood at the curb of Number Four Privet Drive knowing something was wrong and she and her Godfather were unusual people.


	2. Aunt Marge’s Big Mistake

**Aunt Marge’s Big Mistake**   


A small, silver third hand of a simple silver watch appeared broken. The hand, which had little runes carved into it, jumped to seemingly random numbers. For the past week, the rune covered hand would jump from 12 o’clock to 10 o’clock then be at 5 o’clock until late, where it would go to 2 o’clock for an hour or two, before retiring to 3 o’clock for a few hours of sleep.  
Three days ago, Uncle Vernon had complained about Sirius’s car, which had still been parked outside. The next morning, before any of them had woken up, it was gone. Sirius had not said anything. He had not written a letter and Hedwig, Siria’s owl, had been left at Grimmauld Place. She would have given anything to know he was okay. The look she had grown so sick of seeing was the last face he had made. Before Remus had called, Sirius had been doing a good job of looking like he would be fine. What Remus could have said haunted Siria for her week at the Dursleys.  
Light shot through the curtains. “Today” Siria smiled. Finally, after a week, Sirius would be here. She closed her trunk and turned the dial from artic blue to orange. When she opened it back up, the small staircase and study had been replaced with a normal, short trunk of clothes and Muggle books. Siria switched into a fresh set of clothes, with the same jacket she’d worn the whole week, and rifled through for Love and Logic: Logic Grids for the Heart. She clicked the trunk closed and went to wait on the porch.  
Minutes rolled into hours as the morning became the afternoon. Siria had flipped through most of the first chapter of puzzles. After a week, the mandrake root had lost a lot of the bitterness it used to have. It was almost bearable, but still distracting. She was stumped on the current puzzle and couldn’t tell if it was actually the puzzle, the mandrake leaf, or the fact that, at any moment, Sirius would round the corner. For the third time, she re-read the first clue.  
Absently, she tapped her pen on the page of squares, as she watched the street corner. “Any minute” she told herself and stole another look at her watch. For Siria, it was as though time was both passing and not. It crept closer and closer, but felt like it didn’t move at all. There was a sharp— CRACK! And Siria rushed into the house.  
Aunt Petunia screamed from the kitchen. Dudley clattered from his chair and onto the floor. Uncle Vernon burst into an unintelligible shout that drowned out Siria’s cry. In the kitchen, between Dudley and his new television, stood a guest that wasn’t Sirius or Remus, but Siria didn’t care. She fell to her knees and hugged the small house elf. “Kreacher!” She smiled. Even Kreacher’s smell of dust and grime was more welcoming and homey than the smell of the Dursleys’.  
“Let me get my trunk,” Siria told him and rose to her feet. Kreacher took hold of her hand. His large eyes beamed up at her. Siria’s heart dropped to the floor. “You aren’t here to get me, are you?” The elf looked on the verge of tears. If Siria were completely honest with herself, she wanted to cry too.  
“What?” Uncle Vernon cried in outrage. “Where is that good for nothing—” Siria drew her wand at him.  
“Don’t—you—dare.” Though her voice was level her hand trembled. She struggled to tighten her grip. Just two summers ago, Sirius expressed how important it was to hold her wand firmly. “It’s your lifeline” he told her. He meant her wand connected to her magic, which was her best weapon. She felt like it was what connected her to relationships, which were her greatest treasure.  
“If Sirius isn’t coming to get me, he has good reason. I’m safest here and at Hogwarts,” Siria raised her head as high as she could. Her hand stopped trembling. She was resolved to stay, even if she didn’t want to. Dudley whimpered behind Aunt Petunia. They were pressed against the wall with their breath held. Siria glared at Uncle Vernon, but placed her wand back in her jacket.  
Kreacher gave Siria’s hand a light tug and she allowed herself to drop her glare. She knelt down beside Kreacher, who produced two letters. Her heart shook, but she accepted them. The house elf leaned in and whispered into Siria’s ear. CRACK Kreacher was gone. Without a word to the Dursleys, Siria placed one of the letters on the counter for them, as it was titled: Them. She marched up the stairs, ignoring Uncle Vernon’s shouts, turned her trunk to the artic blue point of the star, and climbed into it.  
When she was secured in the hammock, Siria tore open the letter that Sirius had addressed with a star.

My Dearest Siria,  
Keep your head up and your wand at the ready. Please trust that what I’m doing is for the best. Kreacher will be stopping by to make sure the Dursleys are taking care of you. I’m sorry.  
If things don’t get better before then, I’ll take you to Diagon Alley for your things on August 31st. It may be unlike me to say, but stay out of trouble.  
Love,  
Sirius  


Siria’s eyes poured over the letter. She held it to the magical light of the room, flipped the parchment over, left her trunk to press it to the window. All it told her was that he didn’t hesitate once. Sirius had no intention of telling her what was wrong. She closed her trunk, turned the star, and sat down.  
It didn’t make any sense. She was so mad she wanted to put Sirius’s letter into the food processor, but so sad she wanted to eat Dudley’s weight in ice cream. Part of her wanted to scream and throw things until all the broken junk Dudley owned was irreparable. Somehow, she didn’t have the energy. Siria held the letter to her chest. A lump welled up in her throat and she wondered how long it would be until she cried.  
Snuffles had been unable to answer Siria’s questions, but would bring her books and letters with the answers she wanted. One summer, she had asked him why the sky was blue; the next day, Snuffles had brought her a book on colors, air, and molecules with the page on why the sky was blue bookmarked. No matter how passing her desire to learn something was, if she asked, Snuffles would find her the answer.  
Sirius answered all her questions, except for what he did for work and why he wouldn’t date anyone. If she wanted to know a spell, he would find it. From who wrote the song they heard on the radio earlier to what happened to boys during puberty, no question was too serious or too trivial. Whatever was happening, he didn’t even give her the window to ask.  
She supposed, if she wasn’t given the opportunity to ask what was happening, he wouldn’t have to deflect it. What do you do (for work)? “Boring, Muggle job.” Why won’t you date Chloe or Remus? “And lose time with you? Never!” If they were in hiding, how did Tom find my parents? “Sometimes people get lucky. Sometimes we trust the wrong people.”  
The longer Siria thought about the questions Sirius hadn’t answered, the more her anger grew. She glared at the letter, placed her hands at the top of its envelope and tore. In the silence of the room, the tearing of the envelope sounded like breaking glass. It seemed to echo through the room. Its tearing was the only thing Siria could hear. Until the pieces were too small for her to tear anymore, she didn’t even know she started crying.  
“You’re spoiled” she cursed at herself. “A spoiled brat,” she glared at the broken toys and trinkets around the room. “You’re just as bad as Dudley.”

The afternoon turned into the evening. All too slowly, time rolled into night. Siria sat on her trunk, sprinkled with torn bits of Sirius’s letter. Watching without seeing, her green eyes followed the minute hand on her watch. In a few days, she would be thirteen. Thirteen seemed so nice and enjoyable a week ago. Kreacher had promised to make a thirteen layer cake, with each layer a different flavor. Siria tried to tell him there was no way they could eat a cake that large, but he was insistent and Sirius had bought a book on baking to encourage Kreacher. Sirius had promised they would visit every shop in Diagon Alley until she found the perfect gift. He didn’t believe her when she said that being with him and Kreacher was the best birthday present.  
Like a whisper, the minute hand ticked. THUMP! Siria jolted up. Her trunk was pounding. She pressed herself against the wall by the door, her wand at the ready. By itself, the star of the trunk turned to artic blue. Siria raised her wand and pulled in a breath.  
“Mistress?” Croaked the bullfrogy voice of Kreacher.  
“Kreacher?” Siria hissed in the darkness. The house elf opened the trunk fully.  
“Why is Mistress up? Is Mistress needing comfort?” He asked as he climbed into the bedroom.  
“No. I’m— I’m fine.” She lied. Siria pulled her face into her best smile. It made her feel worse, but she couldn’t worry Kreacher. If she worried him, he would tell Sirius, who would worry as well. Then they all would be worried… more worried.  
“What are you doing here?” Siria asked as she placed her wand back into her jacket.  
“Kreacher has brought Mistress her cake.” The elf took hold of Siria’s left hand. Siria followed him into the trunk.  
“You know my birthday isn’t until Wednesday, right?” She asked. Despite this, on the round table, stacked almost as tall as she was, Kreacher had a cake thirteen layers tall. Next to it was Hedwig. Siria opened Hedwig’s cage so the owl could stretch her wings while Kreacher sang her happy birthday and they ate a slice of the cake together.  
“Kreacher will be back to check on Mistress tomorrow.” Kreacher promised. He patted Siria’s hand. “Master has changed the word to ‘Bombarda’. Mistress must not tell anyone the word.”  
“Kreacher, is Sirius okay?” Siria asked. She tried not to be worried, but it was hard. Kreacher had worked so hard that Siria felt bad for missing Sirius.  
“Master is fine. He is working.” Kreacher lied. Siria opened her mouth to call him a liar, but it wasn’t fair to Kreacher. Over and over in her head, she repeated that it wasn’t Kreacher’s fault. If Sirius didn’t want Siria to know and told Kreacher to tell her he was working, then that’s what Kreacher had to do.  
“Thank you!” She hugged him. Kreacher ushered her back up the stairs, into the bedroom. He closed the trunk on himself and she knew he was gone. She drafted a letter to Sirius and had Hedwig take it right before bed.

(Book: B3, 16-18 The Dursleys are watching the news in the kitchen, as they installed the tv for Dudley [because he complained about the walk from the fridge to the tv]. There’s an escaped convict announcement  
“...The public is warned that Pettigrew is armed and extremely dangerous… (B3, 16-17)” but not where he escaped from.  
Siria learns Vernon’s sister, Marge, is coming)

When Siria gasped, she inhaled an unchewed bit of toast. In her coughing fit, she exclaimed “Marge?”  
“That’s Aunt Marge!” Uncle Vernon barked at her. “You were supposed to be gone.” Siria’s gaze narrowed and Uncle Vernon dropped his tone. “She’ll be here for the week— while you’re both here, you are not to say a word about your abnormality. As far as Marge is concerned you go to Saint Anthony’s Secure Center for Mislaid Maidens—”  
“What?” Siria shouted.  
“Saint Anthony’s Secure Center for Mislaid Maidens; it’s a correctional facility. You’ll be sticking to that story, girl.” He pointed his large, meaty, purple finger at her.  
“Fine!” Siria rose to her feet to clean her plate. “Fine.” She repeated as she wet the plate. Forget about her letter to Sirius. The moment Kreacher came to check on her, she was going back to Grimmauld Place with him or she was taking the Knight Bus. “Marge” Siria growled at the drying dishes. “Marge” she groaned as she marched up the stairs. She would sooner volunteer to spend a week with Dudley and Draco Malfoy than a day with Marge.  
“Oh,” Siria trembled in anger. “If she says one thing— one, I’ll....” She took a deep breath, but her chest shook with rage. Siria slammed her fists into her pillow. She pictured Marge’s big, red face and punched. “One thing” she growled at the pillow. “Not this year.”  
Once her pillow was properly pummeled into a misshapen lump, Siria retreated into the study room of her trunk. She pulled out the accessory box Chloe had given her for Christmas, and pulled her hair into a tight ponytail. Up in the tight, high ponytail, all the unmanageable mess of her hair turned into volume. Her hair wasn’t really that thick, but it would be enough Marge shouldn’t be able to criticize it… as much as she usually did.  
Siria looked at her reflection. From her messy black hair, to her thin frame, down past her knobby knees, Siria already looked as UnDursleyish as one could be. Even with her hair up tight, it was still black and clashed with their family aesthetic. She could wear one of Aunt Petunia’s ugly, old dresses and would still look out of place with them. Her heart sank. Siria never felt like she belonged with the Dursleys and they made a point to enforce that feeling.  
With Sirius, she looked like she could be his daughter. Sure, her hair was unbelievably messy and not nearly as pretty as his, but they both had black hair. He always stood tall and carried himself well. When she could, Siria did the same. If nothing else, Siria felt less out of place and less uncomfortable in her skin when she was with Sirius.  
“Girl!” Aunt Petunia shouted from the base of the stairs. Siria scanned the room, as if it would give her courage or comfort, then bolted out of the trunk. She snapped it shut, turned the star, and hurried down the stairs. Aunt Petunia tugged on Siria’s ponytail, “Really?” she barked. “Couldn’t you have braided it?”  
“But it doesn’t look messy!” Siria pulled her hair out of Aunt Petunia's hand. “It never braids evenly, but this” she gestured to the top of her head where her hair looked flat because of how tightly she tied it “looks okay.”  
(Book: B3, 22-23 Marge arrives, Dudley gets paid to hug her, Marge thrusts her trunk at Siria, who takes it upstairs and into the guest room. The Dursleys serve Marge & her dog Ripper tea. When Siria joins them, Ripper growls & directs Marge’s attention to Siria)

“Still here, are you?” Marge barked (B3, 23). Siria closed her eyes for the quickest moment took the best breath she could. She dragged the corners of her mouth into her best smile.  
“I am,” she told Marge in the sweetest voice she could manage, which was currently a rather pained version of her usual voice.  
(Book: B3, 23-25 & 6-15 Marge isn’t happy with Siria’s reply, says that Siria would have been off to an orphanage if she’d been dumped at Marge’s, and Marge thinks Siria is smirking at her. She snaps at Siria more and more. Marge tells the Dursleys that they should write to Siria’s school & tell them not to hold back during Siria’s beatings. On the evening of her birthday, Siria’s presents arrive [Sneakoscope from Ron, Broom servicing kit from Hermione, Monster Book of Monsters from Hagrid, and a letter from Hogwarts].)

Siria wrote out to letters for Hedwig to take when she returned. One was to Hagrid, asking how to get the Monster Book of Monsters to calm down because she didn’t want to damage her belt. The second was to Professor McGonagall, asking if they could use her classroom on Sundays, and apologizing if Hermione had already asked. Siria wanted to know if the people who had been petrified last year could join. She didn’t included it, but Siria mostly hoped Ginny and Colin could join. Ginny was not petrified, but had experienced something that seemed much worse to Siria.

(Book: B3, 23-25 Siria makes it to day three, where Marge is saying the reason Siria is “rotten on the inside”)

Under the table, Siria’s hands trembled. She told herself “think of Kreacher. Any day, Kreacher will visit and you can go back to Grimmauld Place.” Her chest trembled. She was so furious it felt like the room was vibrating. Marge went on and on and the more she spoke the more a trembling filled Siria’s ears. It was almost deafening— almost.  
“It’s one of the basic rules of breeding,” Marge told them as she took another hearty swing from her wine glass; “you see it all the time with dogs. If there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’ll be something wrong with the pup…” (B3, 25). Siria wanted to ask how they couldn’t feel the room moving. Everything in the room felt alive and like it was screaming. It made her want to scream. Her teeth chattered and Siria forced her jaw to clamp down.  
“Any day now” she told herself. “Think of anything…” Siria closed her eyes. She tried to think about a good reply from Professor McGonagall. If they received permission to use her classroom on Sunday mornings to study and practice, she would to ask Ginny, Colin, and Justin to join them. Neville had been the most disappointed when they had to cancel last year, so he would probably be really happy if they started up again. Her thoughts were loud enough to cover the screaming of the room, but still not loud enough to cover Marge.  
“Weak. Underbred.” Marge told them (B3, 27). Siria was sure Marge was talking about another runt of a litter, but in reference to Siria.  
(Book: B3, 28-29 Marge gets more and more wine; she continues to criticize Siria’s parents & says they were no doubt drunk in the car crash. Siria can’t take anymore.)

When Siria rose to her feet, the screaming of the objects in the room seemed to reach its peak. It was piercing and disorienting the way the whole room vibrated.  
“They died in a car crash—” Marge repeated, but was cut off. It was as if time itself had frozen for a moment. The room went silent and still. Then, all at once, all of the room seemed to break.  
Their plates and cups shattered, the table splintered, even the silverware seemed to splinter. Aunt Petunia let out the first shriek as she jolted to her feet before her chair burst underneath her. Dudley, Marge, and Uncle Vernon all crashed to the floor and onto a pile of splinters that were once their chairs. The Dursleys appeared to be in shock. Three of them knew exactly what had happened— Siria had accidently done wandless magic.  
Before they could collect themselves, Siria dashed upstairs to her trunk. She hoisted it off the floor, grabbed Hedwig’s empty cage, and dashed down the stairs. “GIRL!” Uncle Vernon barked. Siria looked at the front door and it burst open for her. “Don’t even try to stop me!” Siria shouted over her shoulder. She rushed the curb and held her right hand out. With a deafening BANG, the triple-decker, violently purple Knight Bus appeared for her (B3, 33).  
Uncle Vernon had dashed into the yard after her. Siria knew it was childish, knew she shouldn’t, but she was still furious. She stepped onto the bus, turned the back of her hand to him, and raised just her index and middle finger. “See you next summer!” Siria sang at him as Ernie Prang, the driver closed the doors.


	3. Fudge and Sirius

**Fudge and Sirius**   


The Knight Bus was more packed than Siria had seen it before. When she and Sirius had taken it to the Burrow and again when she, Ron, and Sirius had taken it to Hogsmeade Station, there had only been a handful or so of people. Today, Stan helped her get situated in the middle, where she felt rather lucky to find a seat. She gripped her chair as the bus made another BANG.  
“Right then, whereabouts in London?” Stan asked her (B3,41). Siria opened her mouth to tell him “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place,” but her tongue seemed glued to her mouth. She had not seen anything to indicate that someone had Tongue-Tied her, yet that was the closest thing she knew. Stan chuckled at her.  
“Alright there, Potter?” he asked.  
“Diagon Alley!” She announced. Siria felt her throat. Now that she had no intention of saying Grimmauld Place, she felt perfectly fine. It wasn’t as convenient as simply going to Grimmauld Place, but she could buy some Floo Powder and arrive that way.  
BANG! BANG! BANG!  
They blasted from place to place for a good hour, until they finally arrived. Siria collected her trunk and Hedwig’s cage. Stan helped her lower her trunk to the pavement (B3, 41). “Thanks, Stan, Ern.” Siria waved, but the two looked over the top of her head. When she followed their gaze, her emotions flashed from excitement to terror. In front of the Leaky Cauldron, stood Sirius Black with Kreacher… and the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.  
“There you are, Siria.” said Fudge. He placed a hand on her shoulder and her throat sank into her stomach. Surely things like Underage Wizardry weren’t directly under the Minister of Magic, but here he was. As if much smaller and lighter, Sirius whisked Siria off her feet and out from under Fudge’s hand. Sirius kept his eyes on Fudge. Reflexively, Siria draped her arms around Sirius.  
“We’re glad you’re okay.” Sirius told her. Kreacher took Siria’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage.  
“Yes,” Fudge agreed rather shortly. He patted Sirius on the shoulder and Siria could feel Fudge tighten his grip. Siria felt he steered them into the Leaky Cauldron. Fudge asked Tom for a private parlor, and the innkeeper lead them all to a small nook. He snapped his fingers to wake the sleeping candles.  
Cornelius Fudge removed his lime green bowler hat, placed it on the coffee table, and sat down. “Some tea, Tom, if you would.” He asked. Tom nodded and left him with Sirius still holding Siria. Sirius looked to Siria with a different caution than before she had gone to the Dursleys’. More than looking at her like she might disappear, Sirius looked reluctant to put her down. He had already carried her through the bar, up the stairs, and into the parlor, which was rather odd as she wasn’t hurt or tired. Sirius looked from Siria to Fudge, then back at Siria. Very slowly, he leaned down and slid her feet to the floor. Sirius kept a tight hold on Siria’s hand, even when they sat down.   
“You gave us quite a fright, disappearing like that,” Fudge told Siria.  
“I panicked?” She wondered aloud. There had been a moment, when the realization of having done magic in front of Marge, that Siria froze. Underage magic outside of school was only allowed in life threatening situations… Marge was not life threatening.  
“Yes, well… you’re safe now and that’s what matters.” said Fudge (B3,43). Tom returned with a small tray of tea and crumpets, of which Fudge immediately swept up a crumpet. While he buttered his biscuit, Fudge shot Sirius a look. It reminded Siria of when Hermione didn’t approve of something, but wouldn’t say aloud.  
“Now then,” Fudge leaned back into his chair with his cup of tea and crumpet. “Sirius and I have agree that it would be best for you to stay here, at the inn, and sticking to Diagon Alley— during the day of course. Can’t lose you again, right?” He looked over the rim of his cup and smiled at her. Siria looked to Sirius, but he didn’t look away from Fudge.  
“Why can’t I go home?” Siria asked them.  
“Wouldn’t you rather be here? Free to explore Diagon Alley, until evening?” Fudge asked.  
“I’ve got a lot of work to do, right now. Did you hear about the escaped convict?” Sirius paused for the slightest moment because Fudge flinched and narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m helping them track him down.”  
“That sounds ‘reckless’.” Siria told him. He cracked a smile.  
“I helped catch him last time,” Sirius leaned forward and grabbed a crumpet. He broke it in half and gave part to Siria. “While I’m convict hunting, we need you safe. Pettigrew hurt a lot of people. He was a Voldemort—” Fudge flinched at the name “—supporter.”  
“Well, as it is my birthday,” Siria pretended to be looking behind and around Sirius, “and you don’t seem to have brought me anything, I think my present ought to be the rest of the day with you.”  
“Now that sounds like a great idea.” Sirius smiled at her. Fudge coughed into his hand.  
“Good!” Siria grinned at him. Fudge coughed again and looked at Sirius, who made a point of looking at Siria. “It’ll be my first daddy-daughter date.”  
“Now, Sirius, I don’t know if that would be such a good idea.” said Fudge. “We have a lot of work to do, if we’re going to catch Pettigrew.”  
“Now, Minister, Siria and I know it is a very good a idea. We can start back up tomorrow.” Sirius rose to his feet. “Will you be checking with Tom for the room, or should we?”  
“I’ll arrange it,” said Fudge. He placed his half full teacup on the table and stood as well.  
“Sirius,” Fudge locked eyes with Sirius’s grey ones, “I expect discretion.” Sirius said nothing, but gave one, very curt, nod. The Minister picked up his lime green bowler cap, patted Siria on the shoulder, and excused himself.  
Once she could not hear his footsteps anymore, Siria stood up. She took hold of Sirius’s sleeve, “Am I really not being punished?” She asked. Siria did not want to be punished, especially as she had not meant to do magic, but she had broken the law.  
“My goddaughter?” Sirius asked back, in fake outrage. Siria had a feeling Sirius had little or nothing to do with her not being in trouble, but would let him have this.  
“Not everyone how great you are.” She smiled at him.  
“But everyone knows how great you” he tapped her nose “are.”  
“I take it back— you’re a dork.”  
Fudge and Tom entered the parlor with Kreacher. Tom had Kreacher set up the room before they even had to ask. She was given room twelve. The worn wood floor was shabbily covered with a faded rug. It had a bed so large that Siria, Sirius, and Kreacher could comfortably fit on it. There was a gentleman’s chest, which she wouldn’t need with her trunk, and a long oval mirror that somehow felt tired.  
“Hedwig!” Siria exclaimed and hurried over to the fireplace mantel. Hedwig hooted softly at Siria, as she was pet.  
(Book: B3, Tom compliments Hedwig for being smart and tells them that Hedwig arrived shortly after Siria)  
Siria opened her trunk and rifled through her most recent letters. “That reminds me,” she told Sirius, and she pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form.  
“Hogsmeade already!” Sirius took the form from Siria. “We weren’t allowed to go until our third year.”  
“I AM a third year!” Siria exclaimed. Sirius tsked and shook his head.  
“When did you get so old?” He grinned and looked around the distressed desk for quill and ink.  
“Sirius, a word, if you would?” Fudge asked. He jerked his head to the doorway.  
“Minister, you’ll have Sirius back tomorrow. Can’t I please have him today?” Siria asked.  
“Of course, Siria, but I just need a word,” Fudge looked directly at the form, “with Sirius” and shook his head. Siria couldn’t think of why Fudge cared if she went to Hogsmeade or not.  
“You can’t be serious!” Sirius told Fudge. Siria bit back her smile. “That coward wouldn’t—”  
“Mister Black! Please, if you would step into the hall with me!” Fudge spoke rather loudly over Sirius. Despite himself, Sirius followed Fudge into the hall. Siria raced to the closed door and listened at the crack.  
“Pettigrew is mad, Sirius— he’s changed” Fudge tried to explain.  
“He’s also out in the world without a wand— he isn’t crazy enough to come near anyone without one.” Sirius sighed so loudly it carried easily through the door.  
“He escaped from Azkaban! He can do wandless magic! Black, think about it!” Fudge was whispering so loudly he may as well have just been talking at a normal volume.  
“James and Lily wouldn’t want her forced into hiding!” Through the door, Siria could hear Sirius’s foot stomp on the wooden floor of the hall.  
“James and Lily would want her to live— we all do!”  
“There is more to living than being alive, Fudge. How do you think she is going to feel being forced to stay at Hogwarts while her friends all go to Hogsmeade?” Sirius asked, but his tone made her feel it wasn’t a question.  
“We’ll catch Pettigrew and she can go later in the year. We may even catch him before the first visit!”  
“Why should that rat getting out force Siria to do anything?”  
Siria sighed and wandered from the door back to her chair. Something told her that, in the end, if the Minister of Magic said she couldn’t go, she wouldn’t be going to Hogsmeade. If Peter Pettigrew really did want to come after her, he would have one hell of time getting to her while she was in Hogwarts. Besides, once he was caught, she could go. She pulled her legs onto the chair and hugged them. Though she had only seen it in passing from the station, Hogsmeade seemed like fun. Siria sighed and waited for Fudge to stop arguing with Sirius.  
Kreacher placed one of his small, grey-blue hands on her. “If Mistress would like to see Hogsmeade, Master could take her today,” he proposed. He gave her one of his large, gummy smiles. She patted his hand. It was a sweet gesture and a fair point, but she could be patient. Siria would wait.  
When he returned, Sirius had a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth, as if he ate something bitter was trying to keep a straight face. He marched straight for the desk, returned to the hall, and returned without a word. After pacing the floor three times, he sighed and knelt down beside Siria’s chair. If she had not heard most of what happened in the hall, she may have found it cute. He looked up at her, as she sat, and sighed again.  
In the flattest voice she had ever heard, one that could give Professor Binns a run for his money, Sirius told her “We’re going to wait on that form, for now. It just doesn’t seem like good timing.”  
“That’s fine.” She told him. Siria smiled. Going to Hogsmeade would be nice, but cheering up Sirius and having a good rest of the day would be better.  
“Really?” He asked and cocked his head.  
“Really.” She nodded. “Now, are we going out or not?”  
“We are.” Sirius smiled, rose to his feet, and extended his arm to Siria. She took it with the largest smile she had made in nearly two weeks.  
After lunch in the Leaky Cauldron, Sirius and Siria went into the backyard, tapped the third brick from the left above the trash bin, and entered Diagon Alley (B3, 50). Their first stop was Quality Quidditch Supplies, which both of them almost immediately regretted. In the window was the Nimbus Two Thousand Two. It was sleeker than her Nimbus Two Thousand, with a fine polished oak handle. The tail looked sharper than the Nimbus Two Thousand One, but she didn’t need a more polished handle or sharper tail.  
“No!” Siria grabbed hold of Sirius’s sleeve. “I have a broom, a perfectly good broom— my Nimbus is perfect; it flies, I’ve never lost, I already own it!” Even in the broom was nicer, she couldn’t justify Sirius getting it for her.  
“Then I’ll get myself one,” he proposed.  
“What do you need a broom for?” she asked, still holding onto his sleeve and keeping herself rooted to the spot.  
“I fly.” His tone gave him away; everything gave him away. He refused to look at her, was continuing to drag her closer to the shop door, and seemed even more eager than Dudley on his birthday.  
“Sirius, no. What if they come out with an even better broom?”  
“So I can get you a better one?” He smirked. Siria sighed.  
“I don’t need a new broom.” She insisted.  
“How can you not want it?” He asked and gestured to the smooth, polished oak handle.  
“I want it— I don’t need it.” This was exactly what she was trying to convince herself.  
They spent another half hour debating about the broom, but Sirius resigned. At every shop they went to, whenever she held something up, he told her “you want that over a new broom?” and she would put it down then glare at him. Even though she glared and he said it in disbelief, they would both smile when she put the object down. Besides, they both knew there would be a better broom out next year.  
Candles flickered to life in the street lamps as night crept closer. They split a sundae at Florean Fortescue’s as the shops started to close around them. Just to have a moment more of time, Siria fished every last piece of nut out of the sundae bowl. She opened her mouth to ask if he could visit her again, before school started, but closed it and started into the bowl. Somehow, Florean Fortescue’s ice cream didn’t melt. There was no ice cream soup at the bottom… nothing left for her procrastinate with.  
“Ah!” Sirius sighed and leaned back in the chair. “I’m so full. Siria, you may have to carry me back.” He grinned.  
“You’re too big.” She smiled into the empty bowl.  
“Uh,” he placed his hand over his heart, “Siria Potter, you wound me.” Siria gave a soft and short chuckle. “Alas, it is time for you to return to the castle, Princess.”  
“Princess? Don’t you think I’m more of a knight?” Siria tilted her head at him.  
“Nonsense— you are brave, determined, clever, and strong, all qualities of a grand princess.”  
“Whatever” she murmured. In the soft candle light, the blush of her embarrassment was just barely visible.  
“If I’m a princess, shouldn’t you be the one to carry me?” Siria joked.  
“Brilliant idea!” Sirius smiled and hopped to his feet. He knelt down, “Come on, princess.”  
“You’re ridiculous.” she told him, but she climbed onto his back and let him piggyback her to the inn. Sirius even carried her through the bar and to a seat, where they had dinner. He tried to get her to let him carry her up the stairs, but it had lost its charm.  
“Alright,” Sirius sat beside Siria, who had just been tucked into bed. “It’s not like me to say, but listen to the rules. It’s not likely that Peter will seek you out, but Azkaban does terrible things to people.”  
“But why was he there?” Siria asked and sat up, against the headboard.  
“You know,” the usual tall posture he carried himself with fell a bit as he slumped down some. “You know how, when you ask how James and Lily were found, I say ‘Sometimes people get lucky. Sometimes we trust the wrong people’?” She nodded eagerly.  
Siria’s breath was trapped in her chest. Nodding was the only thing she could do. The very idea that she might finally hear what happened to her parents had her inside so twisted with anticipation that it hurt. Sirius took a slow breath that shook so subtly that Siria only noticed because she was holding her own.  
“I…” He rested an elbow on his knee and held his face in his hand. “When you got on the Knight Bus, was the Leaky Cauldron your first choice?” He asked. Siria gasped; she had not noticed her breath was being held.  
“No! I tried to say ‘Number Twelve Grimmauld Place’,” she had to pause because she could say it fine now, “but I…” she tsked, “my tongue kind of— it was like ‘Mimble Wimble’.”  
“Yes. It would be.” He sighed. Siria wanted to shake him and beg him to continue, but felt she needed to be patient.  
“I used the Fidelius Charm on Number Twelve, so only people I’ve told know where it is. Even though people I’ve told know where it is, they can’t tell someone else. Molly and Arthur know, but can’t tell their kids. Just like you got tongue-tied, they would too.” Sirius shifted and laid over Siria’s legs; his own dangled off of the bed.  
“James and Lily were hidden with the Fidelius Charm. Dumbledore suggested it himself and offered to be their Secret Keeper— the only person to be able to say where they were.” Sirius continued.  
“Because Tom’s afraid of Dumbledore!” Siria jumped in.  
“Yes.”  
“But…” her eyes fell onto the blanket.  
“But James and Lily wanted to use me, and I—” Sirius sat up and sat on the very edge of the bed.   
He held his face in his hands before looking directly at Siria. Water glazed over his kind silver eyes, which had never looked more miserable. Siria shook her head. There was no way Sirius would have sold her parents out to Voldemort. After everything she had heard about them from him. Dumbledore wouldn’t have let Sirius near her, dog or not. She tried to tell him there was no way, but her throat was so dry her voice only scraped weakly against it.  
“I suggested we use Peter.” Sirius hung his usually proud head so low, he could have been competing with Nearly Headless Nick over who could droop their head lower. “Dumbledore knew there was a mole, but I— I was such a fool.” He covered his mouth, as if to stop himself from saying more. Siria released a shaking breath she had not even noticed she held.  
“Sirius,” Her voice was soft, but almost a laugh with the relief pouring over her. “I thought you… for a moment… but you and my parents agreed to use him.”  
“Siria,” he rose his head, but did not meet her eyes. “I as good as killed them.”  
“No. If he’s a coward, like you’ve said, then he would have looked like the worst Secret Keeper, so he would be the best.” She tried to smile.  
The truth of the matter was that Siria Potter wanted to cry. She wanted to scream at him, to ask how he could think anyone could have done a better job than Dumbledore. Siria’s hands trembled in her lap. Sirius said nothing, but continued to look at her with the most apologetic expression she had ever seen. Even as Snuffles, he had not looked more sorry than now. She lost her parents and he lost his best friend— his brother even.  
“How I see it,” Siria almost stopped, with how much her voice trembled, it was only more difficult to say “Tom killed two of my parents, thanks to Peter” she shuddered as she tried to breathe steadily. “But my third parent lived, and his helping the Ministry track down the person responsible.” Siria tried to subtly wipe her tears on her shoulder, but, for once, her messy tangle of hair wasn’t in her face enough to hide it.  
“Afterall, you, Lily, and James decided together to trust Peter…” Siria blinked as quickly as she could, to try and hold some of her tears back. “Peter made his choice, to stand by Tom, and you chose to look after me for ten years—as a dog!” She felt that even if she shouted it from the top of Gringotts, how much Sirius being there for her as Snuffles meant to her couldn’t be shown.  
“You were my best friend and you took me in the moment you could, and you’re looking for Peter,” she couldn’t blink her tears back in the slightest, but neither could he. “You didn’t know Marge was going to be there or think I’d run away— you just want me be safe. I— I,” but Siria couldn’t continue. Tears were pouring out of her and she was gasping for breath as her nose became more and more stuffy. With the mandrake leaf under her tongue, she was lucky she hadn’t choked or else swallowed it.  
Sirius slid her wet hair behind her ear and placed his hand on her cheek. They said nothing for awhile. He had carried the guilt of suggesting Peter as Secret Keeper for almost thirteen years, but that wasn’t why he looked after Siria. Siria felt loved. Somehow, even in this musky, old inn, Siria felt she was home.


	4. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siria's stay at the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of summer.

**Diagon Alley**   


In the morning, Siria woke to find a plate of bacon, eggs, and chopped kale on her bedside table. Her tired eyes blinked at the plate. She sat up and picked a piece of kale off. “What is this?” she asked the empty room. All the same, Siria ate what she thought to be some sort of bitter lettuce. Kreacher appeared shortly after she had finished her plate and had gotten dressed. “Look at you!” Siria smiled at him. He had cleaned himself off and even washed his loincloth.  
“Kreacher must be presentable to be with Mistress.”  
“You’re always presentable.” She told him and patted Kreacher’s head.   
After spending yesterday fleeing the Dursleys’ and walking around Diagon Alley with Sirius, Siria felt tired. She kicked her feet up onto the coffee table and spent the day indoors, reading, trying to solve the same puzzle of Love and Logic: Logic Grids for the Heart she had gotten stuck on before, and listening to the radio. There was something nice about the quiet day in.  
By the time Friday had rolled around Siria had received replies from Professor McGonagall and Hagrid. Professor McGonagall’s reply made Siria feel silly for asking; it could be summed up in “Of course, Potter!” Hagrid’s letter told Siria he was a little disappointed she had not figured it out herself. She wrestled the Monster Book of Monsters out and stroked its spine. The book purred and dropped, limp. “Good book” Siria told it, but kept the belt on.  
Kreacher had managed to talk her into visiting Gringotts and getting her school supplies. The two left in the early afternoon. Siria kept a firm hold on Kreacher’s hand. Whenever someone stared at them, Siria raised her head higher. Kreacher was her friend and she loved him. She wasn’t about to be embarrassed by old ideals like “a good house elf is never seen or heard.”  
They entered Flourish and Blotts. It wasn’t quite how it usually was. Where, for at least the last two years, there had been a lovely display of books, there was a cage full of about a hundred copies of the Monster Book of Monsters. It was comforting to see the shop was having even more trouble than Siria with them. She smiled at the books. One of them growled at her.  
“Hogwarts?” the harassed looking shopkeeper asked.  
“Yes,” She nodded. He pushed her aside and Siria had to step in front of the cage to stop him from grabbing one for her. “I’ve already got my copy!” She wanted to take the pole from him and snap it in two. The shopkeeper looked so relieved, she thought he might cry. He helped her collect the rest of her school books. Then led her to the Transfiguration section.  
Flourish and Blotts didn’t have much that Sirius didn’t own. There was one book on the Uagadou School of Magic, In the Mountains of the Moon, which she added to the pile. Siria wandered to the Defense Against the Dark Arts section, where she found Hilarious Hexes: Become the Life of the Party. It was new enough Sirius didn’t have a copy. She picked up a few other books that she was sure Hermione didn’t have and one on Quidditch that had a large section on the Chudley Cannons, for Ron.  
“Siria Potter!” The shopkeeper announced when she was finally ready.  
“Yes?” She asked.  
“I hadn’t even noticed.” He confessed.  
“Oh, well, you know. I’m just a girl.” She told him, taking the books and declining the bag. Kreacher took In the Mountains of the Moon and Hilarious Hexes, but Siria insisted on carrying the others. Though she wouldn’t admit it, she soon came to regret it.  
As they were leaving the shop, she bumped a display and one of her books fell off the top of her stack. Before she could even reach for it, someone swept it off the floor. Siria shifted the books to cover the top of her head, which involved holding them unreasonably high and ducking her head low, and extended a hand for the book. The person who had picked up her book chuckled. He didn’t know it was her.  
“You’re only going to drop them again, if you carry them like that,” the boy smirked at her. “No ‘thank you’?” He asked.  
“Thanks.” Siria murmured into her stack of books.  
“You.” The pale hand of Draco Malfoy placed itself on the top of her stack of books and pushed them down until he could see her face. He tsked and dropped the book he had picked up for her. Kreacher grabbed it before it hit the ground again.  
“Don’t you know house elves—” He started. Siria’s face contorted into a glare  
“Are great friends? Deserve every bit of kindness a witch or wizard does? Yes. Yes, I do.” she asserted. Malfoy’s cold grey eyes surveyed her face, which made her compose herself. Siria wanted to throw her books at him, but didn’t want to damage them.  
“My, my” a cold voice smirked. Siria thought to herself “Of course!” because Draco Malfoy was never alone. “Siria Potter.” Mr. Malfoy looked down at her. “Out with her house elf. In this distressing time? What would your parents say?” He asked in such a cold voice it made the hair on the back of her neck stand. Siria held her head up and straightened up.  
“That if I’ve beat Voldemort—” she emphasized the name as much as she could “three times, Peter Pettigrew is a joke.”  
“Perhaps.” Mr. Malfoy’s smirk widened. Siria forced her strongest smile. She told herself not to be intimidated.  
“Now, it was so nice to see you, but we have other errands to run.” Siria’s green eyes closed to give her smile a cat like air of mischievousness. “Good day, Mr. Malfoy, young Mr. Malfoy.”  
“Good day, Ms. Potter.” Mr. Malfoy gave her a short, curt nod.  
“Potter,” Malfoy neither nodded nor smiled. Siria shifted her books to be able to carry them and hold Kreacher’s hand.  
As they returned to the inn, she mentally composed a calendar to keep her out and about. If Lucius Malfoy thought Siria shouldn’t be out right now, she was going to spend part of every single day, for the rest of summer, in the public, with Kreacher. 

Days rolled into weeks as September approached. Diagon Alley was full of shops Siria had only seen in passing. Her time and freedom let her finally visit some of them, like Amanuensis Quills, which, as its name implied, sold a variety of quills; Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, where Siria was able to purchase some of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start No-Heart Fireworks; a junk shop that sold things Siria couldn’t understand anyone buying, like books missing pages, cracked ink bottles, and broken wands; and Madam Primpernelle’s Beautifying Potions, which was more pink than Siria had ever seen.  
Since her first year, she had grow quite a bit and needed her robes let down. Madam Malkin’s Robes of All Occasions was a short stop. She smiled when Siria entered and welcomed her back. Madam Malkin laughed and told her she had missed Draco Malfoy by a few days. Siria didn’t tell Madam Malkin that she was glad to have missed him.  
Quality Quidditch Supplies may have been Siria’s favorite place, as she went to at least four times a week. She never bought anything, but she couldn’t help staring in the window and looking at the newly erected display: the Firebolt.  
(Book: B3, 51 description of the Firebolt)  
It was beautifully crafted and it took her telling Kreacher every time they got near the shop “Do not let me ask about it and don’t tell Sirius!” to stop her asking for the price. Siria worried that, no matter how much it was, she might buy it. She reminded herself every time she saw that: 1) she had a perfectly good Nimbus Two-Thousand, 2) the money in her vault had to last this year and four more, 3) if the broom really was being used by professionals, at next year’s Quidditch World Cup, it was probably much more than she needed and more than she could afford.  
Almost every day, Siria visited Magical Menagerie, a pet shop. More than anything in Diagon Alley, even more than the Firebolt, Siria wanted a snake. They were so drawn to her and wouldn’t disappear like the ones she summoned with Serpensortia. The shopkeep tried to get her to buy one or anything, but Siria couldn’t. She already had Hedwig and snakes weren’t an allowed animal. It didn’t stop her from visiting again though.  
Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour was another of her favorite places. She had been talking with Kreacher about her History of Magic essay and Florean Fortescue himself told her to bring it in. He was an expert on witch burnings, along with History of Magic in general. Fortescue was kind enough to lend her some of his old books and brought her a new sundae every hour while she worked there. She sat at one of the tables just outside the shop, which worked out nicely.  
When Colin Creevey visited about a week and a half after Siria arrived, she was sitting outside with Kreacher, reading Gnawing Down Goblin Rebellions: A Guide to Getting the Gruesome Facts. He was elated to see her and ran right toward her. Kreacher froze Colin in midair, just a few steps before the table.  
“Kreacher, it’s fine!” Siria closed her book and patted Kreacher on the shoulder. Colin had the widest smile on his face, as if being stopped by a house elf was the coolest thing he had done this summer. “This is Colin, Colin Creevey” Siria told him. Kreacher stopped and Colin, not prepared to start moving again, nearly ran into the table.  
“You’re here!” Colin exclaimed at Siria. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you until September!”  
“Yup. Here I am.” She smiled, a little awkwardly. For some reason, Colin shook her hand and continued to shake her hand with a huge smile on his face.  
“So, um, Professor McGonagall has given me permission to use her classroom on Sunday mornings. Hermione, Ron and I are going to be studying with some other people, did you want to join?”  
“Can I really?” Colin turned to his parents. “Mum, dad, did you hear?” He shouted across the street. Siria waved at them with her free hand and they came over. “Can I?” Colin asked Siria again.  
“Yeah.” Siria told him as she shook Mr. Creevey’s hand and then Mrs. Creevey. His younger brother, Dennis., started up at Siria like she was a giant. He was even smaller than Ginny.  
“This is Dennis— he can do stuff too! Do you think he’ll get to go to Hogwarts?” Colin asked.  
“Probably.” Siria wasn’t sure if that was the only qualification for getting into Hogwarts. Dennis, who had the same hair and eyes of his brother exchanged the same look of excitement.  
“Do you all have some time?” Siria asked.  
“We do!” Colin shouted, but looked to his parents.  
“We do,” Mrs. Creevey nodded.  
“Would you like to join me? My treat.” Though they protested a few times, Siria ultimately managed to pay. The Creeveys, Siria and Kreacher sat outside, enjoying the afternoon until the Creeveys had to get the rest of Colin’s school supplies.  
Justin Finch-Fletchley arrived at Diagon Alley the next day. He seemed to look forward to studying on Sundays. “With Hermione Granger and you?” He asked her twice. Siria supposed studying with the smartest person in their year would help him, but didn’t really feel studying with her would help more than Hermione. The only person left she would have to ask was Ginny. It wouldn’t make sense for Penelope Clearwater to study with people younger than her.  
Until her last week at Diagon Alley, Siria avoided Ollivanders. On their first and only encounter, he crept her out with the way his silver eyes watched her with curiosity. Now that she knew more about Tom Riddle, the man who went on to do “terrible, but great things,” she hoped it wouldn’t be so uncomfortable. The bell of the shop door ringed as she and Kreacher entered.  
“Ah, Ms. Potter.” Mr. Ollivander’s smile made her stomach flip. She pulled her wand from her pocket.  
“Hi. I, um.” She placed it on the counter. “I don’t know if wands are like cars, so I figured I would bring it in and make sure it was okay.” She didn’t want to tell him that watching someone use a broken wand made her panic hers might need repairs. Ron’s wand had broken in a fight with the Slytherin Quidditch team and Hermione had done her best to repair it, but the repairs were temporary.  
Ollivander held her wand. He examined it right at the end of his glasses. With a flick, Siria’s wand became a bouquet of flowers and another flick turned it back into a wand. “Still in fine condition, though you ought to treat it some time.” Ollivander told her.  
“Treat it?” She asked. “With…?” What do you even treat a wand with? Aunt Petunia had a can of spray she used on the kitchen table, but that hardly seemed proper and Aunt Petunia would never let Siria use the spray on anything magic.  
“Standard wand polish should do, nothing fancy needed. Even if you just treat it once a year, the wand will shine and grow to trust you more.” said Ollivander   
Siria didn’t need more convincing than that. The fact she had gone without treating it for so long actually worried her. She left the shop with her wand, a can of polish, and a cloth. If it was one thing that even Aunt Petunia didn’t complain about, it was Siria’s ability to polish. Her wand almost seemed to glow when she was finally done. Had she been polishing a spoon, she would have been able to see her face in it, but she also would have been less willing to polishing it.  
Although she had finished her homework, the new books she bought, Love and Logic: Logic Grids for the Heart, and moved onto 1001 Word Problems!, Siria spent at least part of each day at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour. It was the final week of summer and she still had not seen Ron or Hermione, even though she had seen what felt like the rest of the school. Florean Fortescue was happy to have her and brought out new sundaes throughout the day. When the shop was slow, he would come out and lookover whatever she was reading at the time.  
Finally, on Friday, she knew she would have to see them today, tomorrow, or at least on the train on Sunday. She sat down with Kreacher, on a bench near the Leaky Cauldron. Kreacher wouldn’t let her eat ice cream this early and Siria really hoped that Ron and Hermione would pass by, especially because 1001 Word Problems! was notably more difficult and less fun than Love and Logic: Logic Grids for the Heart.  
“Siria! SIRIA!”  
Siria nearly dropped her book in excitement when she ran to hug and greet Hermione and Ron. Both of them had just stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron.  
(Book: B3, 55 Hermione is very tan, Ron covered in freckles)

“It’s so good to see you!” Siria confessed as she hugged Hermione for a second time.  
“Did you really shatter a house?” Ron asked.  
“What? No!” Siria let go of Hermione, who looked she didn’t believe Siria. “I didn’t shatter the whole house, I only broke a room— and Sirius said the Ministry fixed it.”  
“You aren’t supposed to do magic—” Hermione started,  
“I didn’t try to do it!” Siria interrupted. The girls stared at each other for a moment. Though Hermione didn’t approve, she seemed to understand Siria really didn’t mean to.  
“You could have been expelled,” Hermione muttered softly. Siria smiled at her. If Siria were being honest, she felt she could have been sent to jail, but, for one reason or another, the Ministry let her off. Siria turned to see Kreacher, standing behind the bench, as if trying to hide.  
“Come on,” Siria waved to him, “you know Ron and Hermione— there’s no reason to be shy.” The old, hunched over house elf dragged himself forward. It seemed his love for Siria had not extended to care for her friends yet. “When did you guys arrive?”  
“Just today!” Ron told her. “We’re all staying at the Leaky Cauldron, so we can go to King’s Cross together on Sunday.”  
“Brillant!” She smiled. “School shopping, then?” They agreed.  
As Siria had already gotten her things, she was able to help Ron and Hermione collect theirs much quicker than usual. Though, Hermione got almost twice as many books as Ron, and insisted she needed them all. Around one o’clock, they met Mr. Weasley at Ollivander’s. Hermione and Siria waited outside, while Ron got chosen by a new wand. Siria felt she had seen enough of Ollivander for the summer, if not the year. Despite all their shopping, their hands were kept rather empty because Kreacher insisted on taking their bags back to the inn after each shop.  
They settled at Florean Fortescue’s with Ron’s new wand: unicorn hair, fourteen inches, willow. Hermione and Siria were surprised he hadn’t insisted on going there first. The three ordered a sundae to split, while Hermione talked about her trip to France and Ron about his to Egypt. Hermione had rewritten her History of Magic essay to incorporate all she’d learned.  
“If you two don’t mind, I’d like to get an owl,” Hermione told them.  
“Why would we mind?” Siria asked.  
“I just mean that we’ve finished our shopping and it would be another shop.”  
“Oh, no!” Ron rolled his eyes, “Hermione, if you want an owl, let’s go.”  
“Besides,” Siria pointed down the way, “there’s a magical creature shop over there (B3, 57).”  
(Book: B3, 58 the Magical Menagerie is small and filled with a variety of animals)

“You know, Hermione, you could always borrow Hedwig or a school owl.” Siria suggested.  
“Yes, but not during the summer. Owls are so useful, and—” Hermione paused to pet a rather large, ginger cat. “Oh, but a cat would be nice too.” She scratched behind the ear of the very fluffy, bowlegged cat.  
“Snakes are nice too” Siria suggest and pointed to the glass tank of snakes, all of which had slithered toward her.  
“No!” Ron exclaimed and shook his head. “You cannot have a snake!”  
“Not me, Hermione” Siria told him.  
“Siria,” Hermione tsked as she picked up the cat, “any snake I got would love you a hundred times more than me.” The cat broke into a soft pur while Hermione scratched under its chin.  
Ron exchanged a look with Siria that told her they agreed. Hermione may find the cat to be cute, but cute was a matter of opinion. The cat was rather large for a cat and seemed to take up all of Hermione’s torso. Its face was squashed in and it looked grumpy (B3, 60). None of these things seemed to sway Hermione in the least and, a few minutes later, the trio walked out with the cat, Crookshanks.

(Book: B3, 61 Peter Pettigrew is still loose, Percy is the new Head Boy & is acting like the mayor, Fred & George are rather over Percy and tried to stuff him into a pyramid. Tom, the innkeeper put three tables together for them in the parlor.)

Just as their third course was being served, Siria’s fork clattered to her plate. “Sirius!” She exclaimed and fought to not rise to her feet. Her seat was on the opposite side of the parlor entrance, but he made his way over to her, stopping to hug Molly and shake Arthur’s hand. The entire time, he had a large grin on his face.  
“I almost didn’t make it,” Sirius kissed the top of Siria’s head. Ron moved his chair closer to George, who moved closer to Fred, who moved closer to Ginny, to make room for Sirius. Sirius flicked his wand and summoned a chair that looked exactly like one from his dining room, and Siria felt it would be safe to say it was one. He pulled up a plate and beamed at Siria.  
“I thought I wouldn’t see you until summer,” Siria confessed.  
“I worried the same thing, so I told Fudge I was going home for the night to have dinner with my goddaughter. If we’re lucky, I’ll be back tomorrow or at least to see you to the station on the first.” He told her.  
“Siria said you’re helping look for Pettigrew,” Hermione jumped in. At the sound of the name, the other chatter died away from the table.  
“Yes.” Sirius said, his smile still in place.  
“Everyone is,” Mr. Weasley told them. “Fudge pulled everyone from their usual duties to help (B3, 61).  
“It’s really rather silly,” Sirius told them as he pulled some brisket onto his plate. “That rat’s foolish enough to get himself caught.”  
“It isn’t silly at all!” Mrs. Weasley snapped from down the table. “He murdered twelve people Sirius and almost got away with it.”  
“How could he get away with that?” Fred asked in disbelief.  
“He tried to frame me,” said Sirius, in the same calm voice he used to tell them “it’s really rather silly.” If anyone else had something to say or ask on the subject of Peter Pettigrew, they did not. Steadily, they followed Sirius’s lead of continuing to eat.  
On their fifth and final course, Siria took a large spoonful and, loudly as she could, told Sirius “Prepare for the plane!” He gasped in fake terror, as he had done before.  
“Not again! You blasted thing!” Sirius grinned ear to ear and took the bite.  
“Another flawless landing,” she laughed. Fred and George applauded. Though Mrs. Weasley tsked them quietly, her smile had returned. Chatter returned evenly throughout the room and they went to bed in good spirits.


	5. The Dementor

**The Dementor**   


Summer came to end all too quickly for Siria. She knew that she couldn’t be more excited to return to Hogwarts, but she would miss Diagon Alley. On their final day, Fred, George, Ron, and Siria spent a good half hour staring at the Firebolt. Hermione, who didn’t understand the appeal, sat on a nearby bench with one of her new school books.  
After lunch, they all returned to the Leaky Cauldron to pack. Over her stay at the inn, Kreacher had managed to keep most of Siria’s things collected and organized in her trunk. Without him, she would have spent until dinner packing. Kreacher and Siria had given up on 1001 Word Problems and she took out A Monster Book of Monsters. He wasn’t any good at math, but definitely knew his magical beasts.  
“You can read it!” Hermione gasped through the open door. The book startled closed. Siria threw her arms around it, wrestled the book to the ground, and struggled to stroke its spine. She had to pet it a few times before the book calmed down. Siria let out a sigh and put the belt around the book.  
“Sorry,” Hermione smiled apologetically.  
“It’s cool.” Siria assured her. “So, yeah. If you want to open it, just stroke the spine.”  
“What is the new teacher thinking, though?” Hermione asked as Siria put the bound book into her trunk. “I’ll be surprised if anyone else figured it out.”  
“Yeah.” Siria scratched the back of her neck. She didn’t have the heart to tell Hermione that she hadn’t figured it out herself.  
“Have you asked Ginny about the group?” Hermione asked. Siria nodded.  
“Yeah. I got everyone, even Neville.” Siria told her. She rifled through her trunk for an outfit for tomorrow.  
“Ginny seems in awe of you,” Hermione told her, as she sat down.  
“Really?” Siria shrugged and looked to Kreacher, who was polishing the mirror. “You don’t have to do that.” She reminded him.  
“Kreacher likes cleaning Mistress’s room.” He insisted.  
“Kreacher, do you get paid?” Hermione asked, which took both Kreacher and Siria by surprise.  
“Paid?” Kreacher croaked. His eyes were so wide they looked like they might pop out of his head.  
“Hermione is Muggle-Born, she doesn’t know about house elves!” Siria rushed over to Kreacher. She patted his bald head. “She isn’t trying to offend you!”  
“Kreacher, paid?” he growled in disbelief. Siria nodded,  
“She’s, uh, not informed on this. I’m going to go inform her!” Siria told Kreacher. “Please feel free to do whatever you would like. I’ll understand.”  
“Kreacher must stay with Mistress! Master’s orders.”As she rose to her feet, Kreacher took her hand.  
“He has to stay with you?” Hermione asked. “Like, he couldn’t leave you at all?”  
“Kreacher wants to stay” Siria defended, but could see Hermione getting angry. Even if Hermione wanted to do something for house elves, not only would most of them not want something done, but Hermione was thirteen, what could she do? It didn’t stop her from interrogating Kreacher about every aspect of his life and that of his ancestors’ until dinner, with Siria trapped in the room.  
At dinner, Hermione complained at length to Percy about the injustices house elves faced. He tried to disagree, and Ron and Siria couldn’t have been more pleased. If Hermione was mad at Percy, they’d see less of him. Siria found herself unable to actually listen to what was being said, she was too busy looking for Sirius. It wasn’t until Percy tried to change the subject by asking how they were all getting to King’s Cross that she actually heard anything.  
(Book: B3, 63-64 the Ministry is sending cars, as a favor to Mr. Weasley)

Siria felt, though they would be snug, everyone would have been able to fit into the Weasley’s car just fine. She figured Peter Pettigrew was the real reason why, but knew she couldn’t tell anyone. If he came up again, Siria would tell Hermione and Ron about him. For now, she just wanted to enjoy the night and keep an eye out for Sirius.

 

“Good morning” the soft and kind voice of Sirius greeted Siria when she woke. Tired, she grumbled unintelligibly then yawned. He ruffled her hair. “Come on, princess. You’ve got a train to catch.” She yawned again, but crawled out of bed and grabbed her glasses. Siria wanted to hug Sirius and tell him she was so happy to see him, but she was too tired to move from the spot on the floor she had crawled onto.  
“Alright, alright,” Sirius smiled at her. “What have you picked out for the day?” He asked. She rolled onto her back and pointed at the armchair with her clothes. “Really?” He raised the pair of dark purple jeans with bleached stars. “Isn’t this the same pair from the picture?”  
“I like them.” Siria grumbled. She was starting to wake up, but too stubborn to move at this point.  
“Aren’t they a little short now?” He looked at the end of a leg.  
“No. I’m finally tall enough for them.” She yawned, but rose and walked over to the chair. He held the jeans to her.  
“Are you sure?” Sirius asked. There was something playful in his smile.  
“What else could I wear?” She asked, in a rather flat tone. Siria tried to stop her smile, but felt she knew what was coming. Sirius tiptoed to the gentleman’s chest and pulled out a garment bag. He turned with a large, dorky smile on his face. “So glad you asked.” Sirius hurried back over to her, straightened up, and held his head a little higher than usual. He looked pompous and fake coughed.  
“Ms. Potter,” Siria covered her mouth to stop her laughter from escaping, “may I present the latest from Moony & Padfoot?” Sirius asked. Siria mirror his posture, except she placed one arm across her chest and held an invisible purse in the other.  
“The latest? Well, if it is really the most recent,” she told him, in her most posh impression, “I suppose you may. As you know, Mr. Black, I am only interested in the latest fashions— anything beyond a week is behind me.”  
Sirius unzipped the bag. Siria couldn’t keep a straight face and broke into a smile. She reached and grabbed the t-shirt. It was a loose, black t-shirt with “Moony & Padfoot” stamped across the top of a picture of a large, black dog. “It looks like a concert shirt, like for a band’s album.” She told him.  
“I hear that’s what they were going for.” Sirius grinned at her.  
“So, is this what you do?” Siria asked. “Do you work for Moony & Padfoot?”  
“In a way, yes.” He confessed. She beamed at him.  
“Yeah. Working for the people that make the best clothes in the world— super boring Muggle job there.” She rolled her eyes, as she removed the pants from the garment bag.  
The pants were a simple pair of black jeans, until she turned them over. Tiny stars were embroidered around the back pockets. Siria stuck her hand inside all of the pockets. “They’re real!” She was rather surprised, but all four pockets weren’t just real, her hand fit comfortably inside each. The front pockets were deep enough she could almost fit her glasses case.  
“Put in a special request, but it does sound like they think deeper pockets are a good way to go, in the future” Sirius told her. “We didn’t end up getting you a birthday present, a real one, so I wanted to do something special.”  
“Uh!” She scoffed, but hugged the jeans and shirt. “For the record, getting to spend my birthday with you was a real present— the very best kind of present. If ever you can’t think what to get me, promising me a day together can never go wrong.” Sirius leaned against the armchair and smiled at her.  
“Big fan of those ‘daddy-daughter date’ things then?” He asked. Not looking at her, he crossed his arms as casually as he could.  
“I’ve only been on one, but I think they may even be better than ‘doggy-daughter dates’, which were my favorite thing in the world for years.” Siria told him. Like him, she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. There was something about confessing to enjoying spending time with someone she found embarrassing; Siria imagined it was just not being used to having someone she wanted to spend time with, but thought it might also be that she liked the idea of being his daughter.  
“Me too” was all he trusted himself to say.  
After a pause between the two of them, Sirius took her trunk downstairs while she changed into her new outfit. She joined Sirius, Hermione, and the Weasleys for breakfast before they got loaded into cars. Sirius, Ron, Hermione, and Siria were in one together, and they couldn’t have been happier. Ron was especially happy to get away from Percy, who had accused Ron of ruining Penelope Clearwater’s photo (B3, 69).  
“Alright you three,” Sirius told them once they were on the road. “No crazy adventures this year— don’t just stay on the grounds, stay safe.”  
“I know!” Siria gave an exasperated sigh. Hermione looked to Siria,  
“Do you?” Hermione asked.  
“Yes!” Siria looked to Ron, who quickly pretended not to be listening. She looked to Sirius. “I know, really.”  
“Good.” Sirius nodded. “I’ve a man on the inside, so I’ll know.”  
“Because Dumbledore, like Fudge, is looking out for me?” Siria asked.  
“Nope. Someone better than Dumbledore.” He grinned at her.  
“No one’s better than Dumbledore!” Ron jumped in, but quickly looked at the roof of the car, to dodge Siria’s gaze. He turned his eyes to Sirius, “really though, there isn’t anyone better than Dumbledore. He’s the greatest wizard ever.”  
“My man may not be as great a wizard, but he is greater than Dumbledore in a few ways.” Sirius gave a knowing smirk.  
“I am not beneath tickling you for information.” Siria told him, in the flattest, clearest tone.  
“Ah, but you hate being tickled more than I do.” Sirius winked and she knew she could not argue with that.  
“Well, I think it’s great you have someone to keep an eye on her.” Hermione locked eyes with Siria. “Ron and I were really worried last year.” Sirius’s head snapped from Hermione to Siria.  
“Worried? For how long? About what?”  
“Thanks Hermione!” Siria hissed between her teeth. She looked to Sirius “Nothing! I was fine!”  
Thanks to Hermione egging Sirius on, the trip to King’s Cross felt long and slow as Sirius pried about what Siria could have possibly done to worry them. Almost halfway to the station, Ron finally caved in as well. Hermione and Ron told Sirius about how Siria hadn’t slept, kept hearing the basilisk, and how they had snuck into the Slytherin common room. About the only comfort Siria had was the fact Sirius seemed more impressed about Siria sneaking into the common room and being shown secret passages than upset she hadn’t told him she wasn’t sleeping well. When they arrived at the station, Sirius patted Hermione and Ron on the shoulder; he thanked them for looking out for her.  
(Book: B3, 70-72 The Ministry drivers load the kids’ trunks onto trolleys, excuse themselves, and leave while the group goes through the barrier in pairs. Percy goes to show off his Head Boy badge to Penelope.)

Mr. Weasley placed his hand on Sirius’s shoulder, which caused Siria and Sirius to stop their goodbye. He whispered something to Sirius that Siria couldn’t hear over the bustle of the crowd. Sirius shook his head, and she heard him say “Oh, no. She knows.” Mr. Weasley nodded to Sirius, smiled to Siria, and left them.  
“What was that about?” Siria asked. She looked past Sirius, to Mr. Weasley hugging George.  
“Arthur agreed with me, about telling you about Peter.” Sirius told her.  
“Which is a secret?” Siria asked. Sirius sighed.  
“Yes. To be honest, that’s what Remus and I did the first day of summer— it’s what we do every year. We see him on the first day of summer, to remind him that, as much as everyone in there wants him gone, there are just as many on the outside.” Sirius’s eyes seemed as kind as always, but looked so intently at her that she could feel his dedication to it. “He’s not really all there enough to understand sometimes. The guards really do a number on people.” Sirius shook his head and sighed.  
“Enough!” Sirius clapped. “I’m sending my favorite person off to school, for another amazing year!”  
“Your favorite?” Siria asked with a smirk. Sirius kissed her forehead.  
“Yes,” he nodded. “You, Siria Potter, are my favorite person, so don’t do anything I would.” She pretended to consider it, for a moment, but nodded.  
“I’ll be safe.” she promised.  
“Good!” Sirius patted her head and loaded her trunk onto the train. “I love you.”  
“I love you!” Siria shouted over the whistle of the train.  
The guards began closing the doors. Siria waved to Sirius, while Ron waved to his parents, and Hermione waved to them all. Steadily, the train started to smoke and move. Siria continued to wave until the train turned and Sirius fell out of sight. The trio carried their trunks along the bustling corridor until they found an almost empty compartment near the back of the train. There was only one person inside, an adult. Ron paused with the door open. Hermione poked her head around him, then Siria poked in.  
“It’s Remus!” Siria exclaimed in a whisper. Remus was curled up, asleep beside the window. The flecks of grey in his hair seemed to have spread since she saw him at the start of summer. Siria slid under Ron’s arm and took a seat beside Remus. Hermione and Ron climbed in and they all put their trunks up.  
“He was at Moony & Padfoot, right?” Hermione asked.  
“Yeah!” Siria beamed. “Sirius says he’s a heavier sleeper than me, so we should be good to talk.” She smiled at the sleeping Remus. There could only be one reason why he was on the Hogwarts Express: Remus Lupin was their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher— he was also Sirius’s “man on the inside.”  
(Book: B3, 76-77 Hogsmeade visit it brought up, Ron & Hermione talk about what they know, and Hermione says it’ll be nice to explore and leave school)

“I’m not going.” Siria shrugged.  
“What?” Ron asked.  
“Why?” Hermione asked. Siria shrugged again.  
“You know, with Peter Pettigrew being out… it’s just safer to not go, ya know?” She leaned back into the seat. Hermione and Ron exchanged a look. Ron checked to make sure the door was closed all the way.  
“Why are you really not going?” He asked her. Siria looked to Remus, who was very deeply asleep.  
“I’m not supposed to know.” She told them then looked to the compartment door and back to Hermione and Ron. “But…” and she explained what Sirius had told her, with Sirius left out of it.  
By the time Siria finished, the woman who pushed the food cart arrived. Siria ordered a bit more than she otherwise would have, so, if Remus woke up and was hungry, they would have plenty to share.  
(Book: B3, 79-80 Draco Malfoy stops by the compartment, insults Ron’s family, but Professor Lupin’s presence causes him to leave.)  
Hermione closed the door behind Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. “Honestly,” she tsked and sat back down, “do you suppose he pokes his head into every compartment looking for you?”  
“I—” Siria really couldn’t say how else he found her every trip.  
“It’s a little funny,” Ron confessed. It seemed to lighten his mood because he cracked a smile. Siria cleared her throat. She mimed opening a compartment door, “Potter?” Siria asked with a haughty expression on her face.  
“He draws it out more,” Hermione grinned at her, “Paw-tter” the trio chuckled.  
“Paaaw-tter” Ron drawled.  
“So much more bored than that!” Siria laughed. They continued doing impressions of Malfoy calling Siria until Remus almost stirred, and they took to chuckling softly.  
(Book: B3, 81 they’re almost to Hogwarts, the lights of the train go on, but then the train starts to slow, Hermione insists they can’t be there yet, the train moves even slower, it’s raining and windy outside, and no one seems to know what’s happening. When the train comes to a complete stop, it also throws them into total darkness)

“What’s going on?” Ron asked (B3, 81). Siria pulled her wand from her jacket and used “Lumos” to light it. Hermione and Ron did the same. Siria tapped Remus on the shoulder, then shook his shoulder lightly. “Remus?” She called. “Professor Lupin?”  
“We don’t need to wake him!” Hermione waved for Siria to stop.  
“But he might be able to help.” Ron rubbed the window and peered through “especially because it looks like we’re being boarded.”  
“Who would be boarding?” Hermione asked and tried to peer into the darkness outside.  
“Remus!” Siria snapped. She took a deep breath in, “Sirius!” she called loudly.  
“Sirius?” Remus’s hoarse voice echoed. He took in Siria’s face and though he looked rather tired, smiled at her. The compartment door slid open and someone fell into the room. Hermione helped pull him onto his feet; it was Neville.  
“What’s going on?” Neville asked. Siria looked to Remus.  
“Professor Lupin, do you happen to know what’s happening?” Siria asked. Remus’s eyes seemed both alert and warry (B3, 83).  
“Stay here,” he instructed. Siria took his seat by the window, as he moved to the doorway. There was a small, gasp.  
“Ginny?” Ron asked.  
“Ron!” Ginny called and moved around Professor Lupin.  
“Stay here!” Professor Lupin repeated and closed the door behind him.  
“What’s going on?” Neville repeated and sat beside Siria.  
“No idea.” Siria confessed.  
The compartment door slid open, but it wasn’t another student or Professor Lupin returning.  
(B3, 83 Dementor description— it’s a towering, hooded figure, that keeps its face hidden, and looks like something that decayed in water. It takes a deep breath, which fills the room with a chill and makes everyone suffer their worst memories and feel like they’ll never be happy again)

Under the sound of distant screaming, Siria could hear her name being called. The scream was high and piercing, while the voice that called her name was hoarse and deep. She felt herself being pulled down and away from the hoarse voice until—   
“SIRIA!” Hermione shook Siria’s shoulder.  
(Book: B3, 84 Siria fainted, learns it was an Azkaban guard: a dementor, and that she’s the only one that fainted. Everyone else felt terrible and Ginny shook terribly, but only Siria fainted and she feels the coming shame. They eat chocolate, provided by Professor Lupin, get off the Hogwarts Express, load into the carriages, where they pass two more dementors on their way to the castle,. When they get out of the carriage, Siria’s greeted by the delighted voice of Draco Malfoy)

“You fainted?” Malfoy elbowed through Hermione to block Siria. She wanted to kick him, punch him in the stomach at least, but the thought of Sirius being serious about her having to hold the hand of the next person she fought with and it being him. Siria pulled the corners of her mouth into a smile and announced, in the loudest, cheeriest voice,  
“And you weren’t there to catch me! I was heartbroken.” She placed her hand over her heart, the way Sirius would sometimes do when he was being dramatic. “Draco,” She slid her other hand onto his arm, “you don’t have to worry though, I’m fine.”  
“Uh!” Malfoy pulled his arm away from her and Siria had turn her focus to not smirking. “I wasn’t worried.” Malfoy straightened his robes.   
Siria took a step toward Malfoy and he took his usual step back. She dropped her voice to a whisper, “you ought to back off, Malfoy.”  
“Make me.” He whispered back, but looked past her in surprise. A hand fell on Siria’s shoulder and she felt her heart stop.  
“Is there a problem?” Professor Lupin asked. Siria glared into Malfoy’s grey eyes.  
“No, sir. No problem at all.” Siria smirked at Malfoy. She wanted to shout “Your father can’t help you here!” to Malfoy, but that didn’t actually seem like it would solve anything or make her feel better. Malfoy was right— she had fainted and, from the sound of it, had been the only person to.  
(Book: B3, 88-89 Professor McGonagall calls Siria and Hermione into her office, where Madam Pomfrey is all “of course it’s you!” but is apologetic once she learns it was a dementor. Siria has to insist on going to the feast because Professor McGonagall considers putting Siria in the Hospital Wing for the night, and Siria cannot stand the thought of what Draco Malfoy would say if he heard. Siria waits for Hermione, then they go to the feast. They’ve missed the Sorting. Dumbledore tells them that, while Peter Pettigrew is loose, the dementors are being kept on the grounds and they cannot be fooled by things like Invisibility Cloaks; he introduces Lupin, announces Hagrid is the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher, then everyone eats and they retire for the night)

“Siria, can I have a word?” Hermione asked.  
“Sure?” Siria agreed. Hermione turned the star of Siria’s trunk and climbed inside. Siria followed, wondering if she should ask Hermione what was happening.  
“Could I borrow your Invisibility Cloak this year?” Hermione asked in a voice that was barely audible.  
“What are you going to do with it?” Siria asked.  
“I— never mind” Hermione shook her head and started to head back up the stairs.  
“Hey!” Siria called. “Of course you can! I just wanted to know—” but she was stopped as Hermione flung her arms around Siria’s neck.  
“Thank you! Whenever you need it, I promise to return it. Also, if you notice me missing, can you just say I forgot something?” Hermione asked.  
“Should I be worried?” Siria asked in reply. She felt like it might be worth writing to Sirius about, but didn’t want to get Hermione into trouble.  
“No, no. Nothing like that!”  
“Okay…”  
Still not fully convinced, but wanting to support Hermione, Siria handed over the Invisibility Cloak. The girls changed and climbed into their beds. Siria took a moment to take in the familiar room and ceiling, which gave a similar feel to being with Sirius: they felt like home.


	6. Talons and Tea Leaves

**Talons and Tea Leaves**   


Screams. An echo of sharp, piercing screams surrounded Siria. She was being spun so quickly that she couldn’t make out where she was. There were only flashes: a quick, sort glimpse of ginger then a bright, blinding flash of green. Over it all, a scream being echoed while she spun, spun, spun.  
Siria woke to a weight on her stomach. Crookshanks seemed to think Siria’s stomach was a good place to sleep. Siria put him on the ground beside her bed and tried to go back to sleep, but something about the spinning room was familiar. The fact she couldn’t place it made her fixate on it until she drifted back to sleep.  
(Book: B3, 96-98 Malfoy is doing impressions of Siria fainting. Fred & George tell her not let it get to her, that Malfoy rushed into their compartment, “nearly wet himself”, and he won’t be so happy after their Quidditch match. Ron notices Hermione has Divination, Muggle Studies, and Arithmancy at 9am. Hermione dismisses it. The trio run into Hagrid on their way to Divination and he’s worried, but excited.)

Last year, Siria spent a week being led around by Snape and Professor Dumbledore. They were looking for the Chamber Secrets and took her through all sorts of secret passages. Hermione had the sense to make Siria draw them out for future reference. As Siria had only been to the North Tower once, it took them a little longer than she would have liked to remember the exact way to open each passage.   
(Book: B3, 101-107 They arrive & have their first Divination lesson. Professor Trelawney’s classroom is full of fumes that make Siria’s head feel funny, Hermione is discouraged to hear books won’t get her far, Trelawney makes a few predictions before they have tea and start reading tea leaves. When Ron says that Siria has a hippo or a sheep, they laugh and Trelawney comes over. She takes Siria’s teacup, says it’s a falcon, that Siria has a great enemy [to which Hermione basically says “DUH! You-Know-Who”] then that Siria has the Grim)

“[The Grim] the giant, spectral dog that—(B3,107)” but Professor Trelawney could not continue over Siria’s laughter.  
“If it’s a giant dog, it’s Snuffles!” Siria exclaimed. “Snuffles is huge! He’s almost as big as a bear.”  
“It’s the Grim, my dear” Professor Trelawney repeated with some of the airiness of her voice gone.  
“No.” Siria couldn’t not laugh. “I’ll see if I can get a picture of him, but Snuffles is probably even bigger than the Grim.” Hermione had made her way around Professor Trelawney’s chair.  
“The Grim is the worst omen of death!” Professor Trelawney told the class, almost as dramatically as Sirius could have.  
“Well then, it’s a good thing it’s Snuffles and not the Grim.” Siria shook her head. She wasn’t about to go see death omens in her tea— especially not dog-related ones.  
(Book: B3, 107-108 Hermione says that she doesn’t think it looks like the Grim at all and Trelawney tells Hermione that Hermione has “very little aura”, then Seamus Finnigan looks at it with his eyes almost closed and says it looks like a Grim that way, but a donkey if you tilt to the left)

Siria gave an excessively loud sigh. “Well, Professor, as I’m dying, may I be excused?” She snapped. Professor Trelawney narrowed her eyes at Siria, with a similar dislike to how she looked at Hermione just a moment ago. Siria rose her head up and straightened herself up, which was rather difficult on the fat, little pouf, but she managed. Her act of snapping had caused most of the class to at least pretend to have lost interest in her cup.  
(Book: B3, 108 Trelawney excuses the class for the day and they to go Transfiguration)

As proud as she could manage, Siria marched to the front of the class and took her seat there. She felt that it was what Sirius would do, if everyone were looking and whispering about him. “Divination’s always a good laugh,” he told her last year. Siria set up her desk with an extra sheet of parchment. She wanted to write “Then why was I the only one laughing?” and send the letter to Sirius just like that, but Professor McGonagall started the lesson and the moment she said “Animagi” Siria nearly choked.  
Lavender and Parvati gasped from a few tables back and clearly whispered “the Grim!” and “her tea leaves!” and Siria wanted to throw her textbook at them. Hermione looked to Siria, who just waved. Siria closed her eyes. At the word “Animagi” she had gasped, and the leaf under her tongue had moved. “You’re going to have to eat it,” she told herself.  
“Alright there, Potter?” Professor McGonagall asked. Siria scraped the back of her tongue on her teeth and shuddered. Somehow, all of the bitterness of the mandrake leaf exploded in her mouth. It was soft enough, she didn’t have to chew and swallowed the wet, pressed leaf whole.  
“I just,” Siria had to suppress another shudder from the lasting bitterness, “big fan.” She tried to cover up what happened as being nothing, but she had been sitting up straight and stubbornly proud and was now hunched over her desk while she trembled. Professor McGonagall cocked a thin eyebrow at Siria.  
“Are you now, Potter?” Professor McGonagall asked in such a firm tone, Siria knew she’d have to talk.  
“I, er, Flourish and Blotts had In the Mountains of the Moon, which is about Animagi.” said Siria.  
“It is.” Professor McGonagall gave a hardly noticeable smile then continued her lecture.  
Hermione wrote “What happened?” on the top of her sheet of parchment.  
“Later” Siria wrote on the top of her own. She had a feeling Hermione would not be able to react quietly to Sirius teaching Siria about becoming an Animagus. When Professor McGonagall turned herself into a tabby cat with spectacle markings, Siria and Hermione were the only ones to clap.  
(Book: B3, 109-112 McGonagall asks what is wrong, Hermione explains they had their first Divination lesson, McGonagall tells them that Trelawney predicts the death of a student every year, that Siria looks in fine health, but, if she dies, she doesn’t need to turn her homework in. Ron still looks worried because his uncle Bilius saw one and died twenty-four hours later. Hermione tells him Divination doesn’t seem like a good class, Ron says she just can’t stand the thought of not being good at something, which causes Hermione to storm off and say that Arithmancy was way better, but Ron says she hasn’t had Arithmancy yet. They head out to their first Care of Magical Creatures class, which they learn they’ll have with the Slytherins)

“How do we open out books?” Malfoy repeated (B3, 112)  
“Like this!” Siria hissed at him. She stroked the spine of her book, which caused it to purr and go limp, then she removed the belt from about it.  
“We can’t all be perfect, Potter!” He growled back. Siria smirked then looked to Hagrid and winked. Other students, who had bound their books with belts, rope, binder clips, or stuffed them into tight bags, stroked their books. Hermione nodded encouragingly to Hagrid, while Ron mouthed “Keep going!”  
“Righ’ then,” said Hagrid, “Yeh’ve got yer books, an’ now yeh need the Magical Creatures. I’ll go an’ get ‘em. Hang on…” He left into the forest and out of sight (B3, 113).  
(Book: B3, 113 Malfoy says Hogwarts has gone to the dogs, Siria tells him to shut up, he tells her there’s a dementor behind her, but Lavender Brown’s exclaimation draws everyone’s attention to Hagrid’s return, with the Hippogriffs. Hermione, Ron and Siria are the only ones willing to get closer to the Hippogriffs. Malfoy is complaining to Crabbe and Goyle, while Hagrid explains that Hippogriffs are proud creatures, so you have to be careful not to insult them. Hagrid asks who wants to go first.)

Hermione and Ron looked to Siria, who scanned the crowd of other students. She looked to the ground, but slowly raised her hand, secretly hoping someone else would go.  
“Good woman, Siria!” roared Hagrid. Siria let out a small, quiet groan that only Hermione and Ron could hear.  
“Your tea leaves!” Parvati and Lavender whispered (B3, 115). Siria tsked and hopped the fence.  
(Book: B3, 115-117 Siria is able to pet Buckbeak and ride him, then Hagrid has people break into small groups with the Hippogriffs. Malfoy, Crabbe, & Goyle take Buckbeak)

Siria stood to Malfoy’s left, as he pet Buckbeak with a disdainful look on his face (B3, 117). “Scared of the dementors, Potter?” Malfoy sneered.  
“Terrified.” Siria said in her flatest tone.  
“I knew this could be easy,” Malfoy drawled and smirked over at her, “if you can do it, Potter.”  
“Really, Malfoy? Then why can’t you fly?” She glared at him. Malfoy’s nose crinkled and he turned back to Buckbeak.  
“You’re not dangerous at all, are you?” Malfoy taunted.  
“Don’t bait it.” Siria could see Buckbeak’s eyes narrow at Malfoy.  
“It can’t understand.” Malfoy told her, “Can you? You great, ugly—” Siria tackled Malfoy to the ground in time to see the steely talons rise up. She let out a scream so high that, at first, she thought it was someone else. Siria struggled to push herself up, but pain shot through her back. Malfoy just laid under her, his hands inches from her shoulders, like he couldn’t decide between pushing her off and helping her up.  
“Yer gon’ be alright, Siria!” said Hagrid and Siria felt herself swept into the air and his into arms. She felt her warm blood trickle down. Siria didn’t want to move. It hurt. The way she was being carried hurt. She wanted Hagrid to just lay her back down or else let her yell at Malfoy for being an idiot. Behind Hagrid, Siria could hear Lavender and Parvati exclaiming in terror and shock.  
“I’M FINE!” Siria shouted. There was no Grim in her cup. Professor Trelawney saw Snuffles because he was important to Siria.  
Hagrid rested Siria face down on a bed in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey was on his heels in an instant. “Hagrid!” Madam Pomfrey snapped.  
“Poppy, I—”   
“I’m fine!” Siria groaned into the pillow.  
“Nonsense! Hagrid, out.” Madam Pomfrey told him and she pulled the curtains around Siria’s bed.  
Despite the worry in Madam Pomfrey’s voice when Siria had arrived, she had the gash along Siria’s back closed in no time. Madam Pomfrey even fixed up Siria’s robes and cleaned the blood from them in a few minutes. Siria had to stay on her stomach, while a balm Madam Pomfrey applied soaked in.  
“It’s freezing.” Siria told her.  
“Is it now? Maybe you’ll think of that the next time you go being reckless.” There was so much attitude in Madam Pomfrey’s voice that Siria took it silently. Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t care that Siria took the blow so Malfoy and his father couldn’t get Hagrid fired. “You’ll be lucky if it doesn’t scar.” She tsked as she applied another layer of the balm. “What if it had been your face?”  
“Seriously?” Siria sighed. What would another scar on her face really do? The door of the Hospital Wing opened and Madam Pomfrey ushered through the curtains.  
“What’s the matter dear?” She asked the newcomer. Siria sighed into the pillow. She was freezing and had nothing to do other than lay there. If she left, it would just be a scar. The pain was gone now and she just wanted to announce her perfect health and recovery.  
“— fine.” Siria didn’t catch the start of the quiet, voice barely above a whisper, but she was filled with rage. How dare he? She knocked the curtains over in her rush to her feet, blanket in her arms, and ran.  
“Ms. Potter!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed and stepped in Siria’s path.  
“DON’T YOU DARE!” Siria screamed through the Hospital Wing. “I swear, Malfoy, if you ruin this for Hagrid.”  
“Calm down, Potter.” Malfoy looked away from her. “Madam Pomfrey is treating the wounds from your tackle.”  
“Modesty, Ms. Potter” Madam Pomfrey snapped and dragged Siria, by her arm, back to the curtains.  
“Modesty” Siria scoffed. “I held the blanket up.”  
“I’ll be sure to tell your Godfather that.” Madam Pomfrey snapped at her and flicked her wand, which caused the curtains to stand back up.  
“You can’t tell Sirius!” Siria cried.  
“Oh, I can and I will! Now lay back down. Once I’ve finished with Mr. Malfoy, I’ll finish you.” Madam Pomfrey glared at Siria so intently that Siria felt more that she was being challenged to a fight than given medical attention.

After dinner, Hermione and Ron visited Siria in the Hospital Wing. Siria was too busy fuming over Malfoy’s visit to actually enjoy their company. Finally, Madam Pomfrey shooed them off, by insisting Siria needed her rest and would be released tomorrow. There was something about the cold, dark Hospital Wing that reminded Siria of the dementors. Her last thought before she fell into a shallow sleep was of the bloated, decayed hand and hood of the dementor on the train.


	7. The Boggart in the Wardrobe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unfortunately short chapter today, but a longer one will be up on Thursday!

**The Boggart in the Wardrobe**   


The Boggart in the Wardrobe  
Thursday, the usual morning mail rush included a letter from Sirius. She examined the envelope closely, to make sure there wasn’t a Howler inside. Though it appeared to be a normal letter, Siria tore the envelope open at arm’s length. It was silent.  
“That was rather anticlimactic” George told Siria.  
“Bit of a shame it didn’t explode,” Fred added. Siria glared at him over the rim of her glasses, but gave no other sign of having heard him. She unfolded Sirius’s letter.

Dear Siria, Saturday afternoon, I’ll be at Hagrid’s, if you’d like to join us. Of course Hermione and Ron are invited. Love, Sirius   


“Thank goodness it’s Saturday, and not Sunday— we’ve got the first meeting at Professor McGonagall’s.” Hermione noted.  
“Wood wants to start practice Saturday,” said George as he took another few pieces of bacon.  
“But it’s first thing in the morning” quipped Fred.  
“Great” Siria sighed. “I get to see Sirius when I’m covered in mud and fresh from practice.” She plopped her spoonful of porridge back into her bowl.  
(Book: B3, 124-129 They’re making a Shrinking Solution in potions. Neville is doing so poorly that his potion, which should be green, is orange. Snape tells Neville that, at the end of the lesson, they’re going to feed some of Neville’s potion to his toad. Hermione is able to fix it, but Snape takes five points because he told Hermione not to help. They’re leaving and Ron notices that Hermione isn’t with them)

“Where is she?” Ron asked (B3, 129). Siria turned too then remembered what Hermione had asked.  
“She forgot something” Siria lied. They turned around at the top of the steps and looked for Hermione as the rest of the class past them. Malfoy smirked at Siria and she had to look at the ceiling to not trip him as he headed for the Great Hall. A moment after, Hermione was panting up the stairs with one hand on her bag and the other tucking into her robes.  
“How did you do that?” said Ron (B3, 129).  
“What?” Hermione asked (B3, 129)  
“One minute, you were right behind us, the next moment, you were back at the bottom of the stairs again.”  
“She forgot something!” Siria repeated, just as Hermione’s bag split. She was carrying at least a dozen books in there.  
“Why are you carrying all these around with you?” Ron asked her (B3, 129)  
“You know how many subjects I’m taking,” said Hermione as they picked up her books (B3, 129).  
(Book: B3, 130-140 Ron argues that they only have DADA, but Hermione deflects and asks what’s for lunch. Ron suspects she’s hiding something. Professor Lupin isn’t in the class when they arrive, has them leave their books & bring their wands to the teacher’s lounge. They run into Peeves, who Lupin shoos away by having gum shoot up Peeves’s nose. Snape is in the teacher’s lounge, warns Lupin to watch out for Neville, but Lupin asks Neville for help. There’s a boggart in a wardrobe, which everyone in the class, except for Hermione & Siria, face the boggart. It leaves the class lively and spirited.)


	8. Practice, Practice, Practice

**Practice, Practice, Practice**   


Dark and early on Saturday morning, Siria headed down to the common room. It wasn’t at all surprising to her that Colin Creevey was bright eyed and ready with his camera. Colin’s voice carried through the empty castle and across the grounds. There was something about his enthusiasm that helped Siria wake up a bit. They parted at the locker rooms, where Colin headed to the stands and Siria to the field.  
“Ron?” Siria asked. Ron was standing on the Quidditch field, with his Nimbus Two-Thousand, and the team.  
“Second Keeper,” Wood told her. Despite the fact it was still dark out, Wood was wide awake. He and Ron were the only ones. Fred and George were nearly asleep on their feet while Alicia and Katie leaned half asleep on Angelina. Siria yawned over everything Wood said until he let them kick off, after a half hour lecture. Angelina and Siria played as Chasers, with George as their Beater and Ron as their Keeper, while Alicia and Katie played as Chasers with Fred as their Beater and Wood as their Keeper.  
For an hour, Wood had them keep up in their four-player teams before having them break into his new specialized training. Angelina, Alicia, and Katie focused on passing plays. Fred and George beat a Bludger between them. Wood had Ron throw golf balls at the goal, for Wood to stop and throw back. Siria did diving drills.  
All the ziz-zagging, flipping, spiraling, and tight turns started to give Siria a headache. By the time Hermione showed up, it was just after ten. Siria flew over to the bleachers. “You’re still not done?” Hermione asked. Siria looked to her watch, Sirius was at 5 o’clock.  
“I mean, I have until Sirius shows up, really.” She told Hermione.  
“Your dad is coming?” Colin asked. Siria felt her face flush,  
“Kinda. Yeah.” she said.  
“Do you really want to head straight there?” Hermione asked. Siria shrugged.  
“I mean, what’s he care if I’m a little muddy? And Ron’s having fun.” Siria jerked her head in Ron’s direction. His face was red from the exercise, but he had a large smile. Ron was so engaged with practice that he hadn’t even noticed Hermione arrive. Wood was so focused on catching everything Ron threw at him that he hadn’t noticed Siria sneak off to the stands.  
“If you’re really going to practice until he’s here, I’m going to Hagrid’s.” Hermione told her. Siria looked back at Ron then sighed.  
“Yeah. I’ll see you when he gets in.” Siria waved to Hermione and Colin then dropped into a sharp dive.  
Every few drops or turns, Siria would check her watch. Wood called practice at eleven, on account of Fred and George insisting they needed to eat because no one had eaten since dinner last night. Ron and Siria headed straight for Hagrid’s cabin, where Sirius arrived shortly after them.  
“Sirius!” Siria exclaimed and threw her arms around him. He laughed and returned her hug.  
“You smell like Quidditch,” he told her.  
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She grinned and ignored Hermione’s face of “I told you so.”  
“It is,” he assured her as he took at seat at the table. There weren’t quite enough chairs for everyone, so Siria sat on the floor beside Sirius, with Fang slobbering beside her. Hagrid sat on his bed, while Hermione, Ron, and Sirius sat at the table. Kreacher popped in and out with tea, snacks, and books for them to reference.  
Most of Sirius’s visit was spent with him arguing with Hagrid. “No one wants ter see Bowtruckles or Jobberknolls!” Hagrid insisted. Sirius looked to Siria,  
“I don’t know what either of those are,” she confessed.  
“A Bowtruckle is a tree guardian and a Jobberknoll looks like a bluebird.” Hermione told them, as she continued to look over her Ancient Runes text.  
“Are they small?” Ron asked.  
“Smaller than Hippogriffs, and safer.” Sirius put a lot of emphasis in the last word.  
“Never thought yer’d be the one ter tell me to be ‘safer’.” Hagrid grumbled.  
“Never thought you’d have Siria in a lesson that would make me worry!” Sirius blurted.  
Hermione’s quill froze on her page. Ron paused part way through a bite of scone. Siria stopped with one hand outstretched to the plate Kreacher offered her. Sirius tapped his finger on the list of creatures he thought would be safe. “I’m not saying to do Flobberworms or Horklumps, Hagrid. Show them an Augurey or tell them about Ramoras. Have them stick to things that are harmless or domesticated. Hippogriffs and Mackled Malaclaws are something you should save for the second term, at least.”  
Kreacher pushed the plate into Siria’s hand. Hermione continued writing, but much slower than before. Ron finished his bite of scone. Hagrid took Sirius’s list of creatures, but they didn’t discuss it further. “How was Mistress’s practice?” Kreacher asked in the silence. It was a good change of conversation because it put Ron, Siria, and Sirius into a lighter mood. As the sun prepared to set, they left Hagrid’s hut for the castle. Hermione and Ron walked ahead of Sirius and Siria, so she could tell him about her first week back, without interruption.  
“Divination wasn’t funny at all!” Siria exclaimed at him “Professor Trelawney was all ‘it’s the Grim!’” she threw hand over her chest in the dramatic motion that Professor Trelawney had. “And no one believed it was Snuffles.”  
“It had to be Snuffles,” Sirius patted her head. She grinned and continued.  
“Then, in Hagrid’s class, when he picked me up, Lavender burst into tears and Parvati was hysterical! They were shouting and crying about the Grim and I just wanted to jinx them. I mean, like there’s something Madam Pomfrey couldn’t fix.” She tsked under her breath. “Oh, then Malfoy has the gall to show up— and he wouldn’t even look at me.”  
“About that, Siria,” Sirius paused. Siria stopped a half step ahead.  
“Yes?” She asked as her heart sank. Something about his face made her feel she was in trouble. He looked to Hermione and Ron, who had also stopped for them.  
“You two go ahead. I want to do a lap around the lake, with Siria,” he told them. Hermione started to go, but Ron stayed and looked to Siria. “Ron, go ahead. I’ll bring her back.” Siria wanted to tell Ron to stay.  
“I can come too.” Ron told him. “I could use a walk.”  
“After all that Quidditch practice?” Sirius asked. “Maybe next time.”  
“Go…” Siria wasn’t surprised to hear the tremble in her voice. “Go ahead.” She waved. Ron continued toward the castle, but looked back over his shoulder the rest of his walk back.  
Sirius walked toward the lake and Siria followed. She held herself in her arms. Quiet Sirius was the worst. It showed her just how much he didn’t want to have the talk they were about to. He sat down on a large rock and patted the spot beside him. Siria looked out to the castle. From here, she couldn’t tell if Ron was still outside or not, but told herself he was. Something about the fact he might be there was comforting. She leaned her broom against the rock and sat beside Sirius. He placed his arm around her shoulder and she broke into tears.  
“Hey,” Sirius soothed. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he wiped her tears.  
“I don’t want to be in trouble!” She cried. “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”  
“Oh, Siria.” He pulled her a little closer and kissed her forehead. “How could I possibly be mad at you? My dear Siria, you aren’t in trouble at all!”  
“Then why did you make Hermione and Ron go ahead?” Siria sobbed. She tried to wipe her tears away, but there were so many she quit and simply cried into her sleeves.  
“Well, that’s because I needed to tell you something a little embarrassing and I didn’t want them to hear. Even if you tell them later, I wanted to save face.” Sirius’s tone was calm, his volume soft. Her sobs stifled into a silent cry. Sirius kissed her forehead again and extended his free hand. She took it with her less teary sleeved hand.  
“As you know, James and I did many of foolish things in our time at Hogwarts and after.” Sirius began. “Some of them were more silly than others, but only a handful got us into trouble. There was one time where, though we didn’t get into trouble, we should have.” He nodded at her look of disbelief. “I know, but we should have.” He insisted.  
“There was a boy in our year that we didn’t get along with, to the point that, when we were bored, we would…” Sirius squeezed his eyes shut and paused. “We would bully him.” Siria’s grip on his hand tightened. “One time, because I was bored of studying, we stuck him, upside down to a tree and—” Sirius took a strained breath, “we showed everyone his underwear.”  
They sat in silence. Sirius kept his eyes closed, as if that would push away what happened. Siria’s heart quivered in her chest. She tried to tell herself that they hadn’t meant to, but Sirius said it himself: he was bored and they bullied the other boy. He had not even tried to defend it. In his large, warm hand, her cold fingers shook.  
“I don’t understand.” She confessed. Sirius’s grey eyes opened and looked to her.  
“What we did made Sn— several people uncomfortable. Things like showing someone in their underwear should only be done if it’s okay with the shower and the person seeing. Even if the boy had been very confident in how he looked and hadn’t cared, what if someone that saw was uncomfortable with other people in their underwear?” He fumbled through.  
“This is because of the sheet thing, right?” She asked. Sirius sighed.  
“Siria, I want you to know that I am proud beyond words that you have such conviction for your beliefs to march in half-dressed to defend them. If you want people to listen to your beliefs, sometimes you have to be respectful to their boundaries. Now, I’m please to report that Lucious hasn’t said a word and I’m not going to tell him, if his little brat hasn’t, but it stands that, even if he is perfectly comfortable with it, there are these super boring, completely overrated things we call ‘social norms’,” Sirius started talking rather quickly “and they’re terrible, but there are times we have to listen to them. I wouldn’t come visit you in my swimsuit, would I?” He asked, but immediately told her “not at Hogwarts, at least.”  
“Just like I wouldn’t come to your Quidditch match in my swimsuit, people expect you to wear top when you talk to them.” He rushed to the end and took a large, heavy breath. “Questions?”  
“So, I’m not in trouble, but, if I had made someone uncomfortable, I’d deserve to be?” She asked, the uncertainty weighed in her voice.  
“No, no, not at all! You— that is to say, I” Sirius patted her shoulder while he searched for the words. “I’m sorry. I’ve been reading about how to have this conversation since I got Poppy’s letter, but I feel like I’ve done it all wrong.” Sirius looked out to the lake. It had grown dark and dinner would be served soon, if it hadn’t already started.  
Sirius looked into the almond shaped eyes of his goddaughter. “More than anything in the world, I want you to love you— to be confident in who you are, even when you aren’t sure who that person is. If you have to march into battle to defend her in a bedsheet, then you do that, but, if you’ve the time to put on a top or dress, I think that would be very good. Let your clothes be your armor.”

Sunday morning, Siria woke early, of her own free will. She pulled all the clothes from her trunk’s pastel yellow point and moved them into the large, storage room of the amethyst point. If she could, she would transfigure something into a closet of sorts for the room, or else ask Sirius for help. “Let your clothes be your armor” had echoed in her mind all through the night. There was something about them that really stuck with her. Part of her felt like her clothes had been her armor and she hadn’t even noticed.  
When Hermione had picked their clothes last year, Siria felt especially confident and happy. She wanted to recreate that feeling, but also wanted to be more. What the “more” she wanted to be was, Siria couldn’t quite say. It was similar to when she held her head higher or when she put on a smile to be brave. Even the oversized hand-me-downs and things she had sewn together or hemmed herself made her stand taller. They reminded her of when Snuffles was the only one who had her back.  
Today, she would have her first Sunday study group. She wanted to be comfortable. The thought of being comfortable immediately brought the train outfit to mind. It didn’t matter she’d only worn it a week ago, if anything it made her want to wear it more— she’d gone a whole week without it and it was her new favorite outfit. Siria pulled the black jeans and loose, black shirt from the trunk. Her favorite jacket had been left on her bed and she grabbed it on her way to the Great Hall with Hermione and Ron.  
“Sorry.” Ron apologized again. Siria elbowed him in the side.  
“Enough! You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” she grinned at him. “Like I said, I wasn’t in trouble or anything.” Hermione said nothing, but looked over her eggs as if she had something to say.  
“But then what did he want to talk about?” Ron asked. Siria took an extra large bite of beans to give her a moment to think of how to word it without talking about it.  
“Parent stuff, I guess.” She felt like this was as much as she wanted to go into it right now. Siria was still trying to figure out how she felt about her clothes being her armor because where did her uniform fall into it?  
“Oh?” Hermione asked. “Did he offer to adopt you?” Siria spat her mouthful of toast onto her plate and coughed. “Siria?” Hermione shouted. Ron patted Siria’s back and Hermione knocked his arm away. “You don’t PAT a CHOKING person!” She exclaimed.  
“Doyouthinkhewantstoadoptme?” Siria asked in one, quick breath the moment she could.  
“What?” Hermione and Ron asked together.  
“Do you think he wants to adopt me?” she repeated, looking from the face of one to the other. “Seriously!”  
“Seriously, Siria, how could Sirius not want to?” Hermione asked flatly.  
“Seriously, Siria. How could Sirius not seriously want to?” Ron asked with a smile.  
“I mean it.” Siria gave Ron a pointed gaze.  
“Honestly,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “why don’t you just ask him?”  
“Hey Sirius, I know nothing about parenting, but it sounds exhausting—did you want to adopt me?” said Ron. Siria rolled one of her beans over. “What I mean is, how are you even supposed to ask that?”  
“Well, it’s up to Siria, isn’t it?” Hermione asked back. She placed her hand on the small of Siria’s back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well last night and I suppose I’m a little cranky.”  
“I didn’t sleep well either!” Siria growled at her beans.  
“I know.” said Hermione. Siria let her spoon clatter to her plate. She grabbed a slice of bacon.  
“Can we head to Professor McGonagall’s?” Siria asked as she got to her feet. Hermione picked up an apple and extended it to Siria.  
“You need more fruit in your diet.” Hermione insisted, stubbornly remaining seated. Siria pushed the apple back toward Hermione.  
“Do I look like Malfoy? No.” She picked a banana from the bowl Hermione had grabbed the apple from. Hermione’s lips formed a thin line then she bit into the apple. The three left for Professor McGonagall’s classroom with Ron in the middle and Siria making a point to look away from Hermione.  
When Siria opened the door of Professor McGonagall’s class, she felt blindsided. Colin Creevey and Ginny Weasley had brought a Ravenclaw second year, who Siria remembered meeting last year. Justin Finch-Fletchley had brought Ernie MacMillan and Hannah Abbott. A Ravenclaw boy Siria wasn’t sure she recognized had come as well. Fay Dunbar was there with a Ravenclaw girl Siria didn’t know. Reflexively, Siria almost closed the door, but Ron had already stepped through. Her hand hovered over the door knob. It reached to close it, but pulled back before it was near enough to touch the door, and she stepped into the room.  
Hermione threw the apple core into the trash beside the door and eyed Siria as she did so. Siria tossed her banana peel and leaned against a table, the way Sirius would sometimes lean on things. She crossed her hands in her lap and kept her back straight. Neville rushed into the room, just as Ron sat down. “Sorry!” He burst aloud, “I— I, uh…” Neville looked at their faces. Siria felt a little relieved she wasn’t the only one caught off guard by how many people were there.  
“Now then,” Hermione called their attention, “this looks like everyone, right?” She asked. There were a few nods and no objections to this. “It would be good if we went around the room and introduced ourselves— just basic things like our names and the subject we can help in or what we’d like help in.”  
Siria wanted to put her head down. Last year, the study group had been light-hearted good fun with friends practicing together because she couldn’t turn beetles into buttons. This year, she would be practicing with a mandrake leaf under her tongue and a room of people she didn’t know.  
“I’m Hermione Granger. My best subject—”   
“Is everything!” Siria cut Hermione off. Ron sniggered, but Fay shouted  
“You bet it is!” and Hermione blushed.  
“Thank you, Siria.” Hermione straightened her shoulders some. “I’d really like to focus on my new subjects, but, if someone wants help, I’d be more than happy— to help you.” Ron and Siria clapped, which caused awkward clapping to go around the room.  
Everyone went around and introduced themselves. Siria learned the Ravenclaw boy was Terry Boot and had Arithmancy with Hermione. Fay had brought Mandy Brocklehurst, who was really interested in sharing all of her knowledge about Magical Creatures. Ginny and Colin had brought Luna Lovegood, who shared Mandy’s interest in Magical Creatures, but confessed in her very lofty voice that she came “as there isn’t really anything else to be doing today.”  
Terry Boot and Hermione took a table near the front for their Arithmancy homework. Neville seemed even more excited than he was during summer because Hannah had voice she loved Herbology, which was about the only subject he regularly did well in. Fay was trapped between Mandy and Luna who were debating about Magical Creatures and whether Hippocores were fictional or real.  
Ron got Colin and Ginny started with turning matches into needles. Siria started Justin and Ernie on changing beetles to buttons. “Potter, I think it’s really good of you to help out the people that got petrified,” Ernie told Siria. She nodded and looked to Ron, who nodded to her and they switched. Colin was so excited to turn his match into a needle he poked Siria while trying to show her. She flinched back. When she put down the box of mice, she had to remind herself to be gentle because the mice had done nothing wrong and Colin had not meant to poke her.  
“Lunch has already started,” Professor McGonagall called. She promptly shooed them out. When they left, Siria felt that maybe the study groups would still be fun after all. Neville was positively beaming on the way to the Great Hall. Over lunch, he told Siria about every plant he and Hannah had talked about. It wasn’t until they returned the common room, where Ron managed to snag a chair that he noted “I’s a shame we haven’t got anyone good at Potions, aside from you, Hermione.”


	9. The Call to the Willow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something bad happens every book on Halloween. Here's this one's

The Call to the Willow  
*Author’s Note: Magical Creature information & spell pronunciations are from the Harry Potter Wiki  
(Book: B3, 141-142 Everybody loves Lupin! [except Draco & his crew] Snape is worse than ever. Trelawney has tears in her eyes whenever she sees Siria. Lavender and Parvati are spending tons of time in Trelawney’s tower & talk to Siria in a whisper, like she’s on her deathbed)

Hagrid had taken Sirius’s list to heart. They had gone over Horklumps, which were fleshy mushroom looking things that ate worms and spread very quickly. He showed them an Augurey, which were the “Irish Phoenix” and predicted rain. Then they did Bowtruckles then Chizpurfles. The Chizpurfle was too small to see in their first lesson, when Hagrid told them it had fangs and ate wands no one wanted to see it. For their next lesson, he had it enlarged to a foot big. Pansy Parkinson had been so terrified that she collided with Hermione and actually apologized with tears in her eyes. Hagrid had just moved onto Clabberts, a kind of frog-monkey hybrid.  
His most boring lesson was about the Diricawl. He referred them to the Monster Book of Monsters because he wasn’t able to get one for the lesson. The Diricawl, or Dodo, could vanish at will, which made them hard to catch and caused Muggles to believe they had gone extinct. He made up for it by having Fairies for the next lesson. Even though many of them had seen Fairies used as decorations around Christmas, they were even more pretty in the forest. Hagrid even showed them Fairy eggs and had them bribe some Bowtruckles away from the eggs by scattering woodlice.  
Wood increased Quidditch practices to the point they were at the field every Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Whether it was pouring or so windy Siria could barely stay on her broom, they were on the field. Colin Creevey was in the stands each practice. Ron joined them every Saturday to give them two four-player teams.  
Sunday’s study group seemed to have at least one new person each week. From what Hermione had said, Arithmancy was easy, but Siria knew better than to take Hermione’s word for any subject’s difficulty. They had four new people there just for Hermione’s help it.  
Anyone who failed to submit their Transfiguration homework or was not performing to Professor McGonagall’s standard was offered: detention that night or the study group on Sunday. When a Slytherin fifth year girl took the study group, she brought a fellow fifth year that Siria recognized only because she’d seen him with Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain. The two practiced quietly with themselves for the first half hour.  
“Potter,” Professor McGonagall looked at Siria over her spectacles, “I do believe you may be ready to learn something new, with Ms. Travers and Mr. Warrington.” Siria wanted to ask why they got suffixes, but, when she opened her mouth to do so, Professor McGonagall cocked an eyebrow. The stern expression told Siria she would be better off working with a spell she didn’t know than arguing.  
“But Professor—” Colin started. He fell silent when Professor McGonagall turned her gaze onto him. Slowly and with a few glances over her shoulder to see if Professor McGonagall was still behind her, Siria headed to the corner Travers and Warrington sat in. With a sharp flick of her wand and “Geminio!” Professor McGonagall turned one goblet into two. Siria lifted the second goblet, which looked identical to the first.  
“Could you show it again?” Siria requested and she obliged.  
“Got it, Potter?” Professor McGonagall asked.  
“We’ll see.” She kept on her feet and mirrored the quick, sharp flick with her wand. “Gemino!” Again with “Gem-IN-o!” Then with “Gem-MIN-ioh!” Siria stopped to watch Travers. She had dark, tightly curled hair that bounced as she flicked her wand over and over again. Travers’s nails were painted brown with green and yellow ribbons, like her eyes.  
“What?” Travers growled at Siria. Siria felt the warmth flood of a blush rush to her face, which made her eyes snap down to the table.  
“You’re— I, um” Siria looked to Professor McGonagall, who was instructing Neville on the spell he, Ernie, and Hannah were trying. Her green eyes trailed back across the table and to Travers. “Professor McGonagall snapped her wand, like” Siria gave the motion she had down.  
“Sure, Potter.” Travers agreed dryly. She flicked her wand, as Siria had “juh-MIN-ee-oh!” and the three of them fell silent at the goblet doubling.  
Travers smirked at Siria and panic flashed through Siria’s chest. “Alright, Potter— now it’s your turn.”  
“Right, it’s uh ‘gem-MIN-i-oh’, right?” She asked.  
“juh-MIN-ee-oh, you dork.” said Travers. Siria gave her wand the quick and sharp flick.  
“juh-MIN-ee-oh!” As Travers’s goblet had, Siria’s doubled. Professor McGonagall’s hand patted Siria’s shoulder. In the thin line that was her usual mouth, Siria could swear there was the shadow of a smile.  
“Well then, Mr. Warrington, you next.” Professor McGonagall told him. She remained over Siria’s shoulder and Warrington looked startled to hear the news.  
“Oh, I didn’t have to come,” he told her as he looked between Travers and Professor McGonagall.  
“But you’re here and this is a study group, is it not, Ms. Potter?” she told them.  
“Unless you want to help me with my Potions essay,” Siria forced a laughed.  
“I could do that.” He nodded to Professor McGonagall. Siria’s eyes widened.  
“I expect you to help her through the end, then.” Professor McGonagall nodded to them and left Siria wondering how she ended up spending the rest of her morning with two Slytherin fifth years— who didn’t seem to hate her.

(Book: B3, 144-149 Halloween Hogsmeade trip announced for Thursday, [10/31/2013]. Lavender’s rabbit is killed by a fox & she thinks that Professor Trelawney's prediction came true, but Hermione argues that it isn’t the case, which does not go over well with the rest of their class)

Their first class Defense Against the Dark Arts class after the Hogsmeade visit notice was posted, Professor Lupin asked Siria to stay back. Hermione and Ron went ahead. He handed her a letter from his briefcase, which she ripped open upon “He missed the post, so—”

Dear Siria,  
I’ll visit on Halloween.  
Meet me at Remus’s office.  
Love,  
Sirius  


As much as she wanted a longer letter, this was all she needed. Her eyes filled with tears and she had to look at the ceiling while she blinked furiously to stop herself from crying. Professor Lupin said nothing until she looked back at him.  
“Thank you!” Siria told him, the letter pressed to her chest. Professor Lupin smiled.  
“It was my pleasure.” He assured her. She kept the letter in her hand as she hurried to catch up with Hermione and Ron.  
(Book: B3, 151-152 Hermione & Ron leave for Hogsmeade)

“Staying here, Potter?” Shouted Malfoy (B3, 152).  
“Because my Godfather loves me!” Siria shouted back.  
She marched back into the castle and headed for the Hospital Wing. It wasn’t that she was sick, but that she wanted to be in her best health when Sirius arrived. The moment she entered Madam Pomfrey shook her head. “Nightmares still?”  
“Yeah....” Siria grumbled as she sat down at the end of a bed.  
“Potter, if you want a Potion for Dreamless Sleep, you’ve got to stay the night.” Madam Pomfrey tsked. She checked Siria’s pulse then felt her forehead. “At least you haven’t gotten the flu. We’ve been lucky this year.” She seemed to be talking to herself more than Siria. “You’ve only been by once for ‘stomach aches’; how were they over summer?”  
“Fine.” Siria kept her eyes to the floor. She had suppressed Marge’s comments so deep that she’d forgotten them. “I only had one.”  
“That’s not unusual. You’re a little on the active side. It can also happen from stress and diet.” Madam Pomfrey assured Siria as she looked into Siria’s eyes and at the light bags beneath them. “Just make sure you eat more than salad.” Siria felt that, if anything, it might be lack of salad, but wasn’t about to tell Madam Pomfrey that.  
“So, Sirius is coming today and I just want to not feel so tired.” Siria confessed. Madam Pomfrey looked so intensely at Siria that the latter wanted to look away.  
“Is it just the nightmares this week?” Madam Pomfrey asked. Siria nodded. “Fever?” Siria shook her head. “Nausea?” She shook it again. “Dizziness?” Another shake. “Headaches?” Shake. “Fatigue?”  
“Only because I’m tired.” Siria reasoned. Madam Pomfrey closed her eyes and sighed.  
“Alright, but, if these nightmares keep up, we’re going to have to write home. You aren’t in trouble for them and it’s fine to have them, but something needs to happen to make them go away.”  
Madam Pomfrey returned with a goblet overflowing with golden smoke. Siria peered at the ruby liquid inside before she raised the goblet and chucked it down. Like the others she had taken, it was so cold it made her shiver. By the time she reached the bottom, her insides went from frozen over to feeling like she’d just swallowed summer. She headed for Professor Lupin’s office.  
(Book: B3, 153-155 Lupin has the Grindylow on his desk. Siria asks why he didn’t let her fight the dementor, he tells her it’s because he thought it would be Voldemort; she’s momentarily shocked because he said the name & only Dumbledore and Sirius say the name)  
“Tom?” Siria asked. “I didn’t think of him at all! I can’t get dementors out of my head.”

(Book: B3, 155-156 Lupin tells her that it’s good she fears the dementors because then she fears fear itself. Then asks if she’s been thinking he thought she couldn’t handle the boggart)  
“Kind of, I mean, Sirius had said he had a man on the inside, which is you, and I wasn’t sure if he asked you to go easy on me and you did because you guys work together, at Moony & Padfoot— are you alright?” Siria asked as Professor Lupin placed the teapot down. At the word “Moony” he had splashed over his cup and into his saucer.  
“Yes, well, I wasn’t aware you knew.” His tone was controlled, but not as calm as it had been.  
“He told me how you guys… I actually don’t know what you do there,” she confessed. Siria didn’t know enough about fashion to guess what it was they did there. Only enough to know they knew the owners.  
“You tried, though” he smiled at her as he cleaned the tea with a wave of his wand.  
Professor Lupin and Siria spent the morning together and broke for lunch, when it was obvious Sirius was still not on his way. Siria ate a rather noisy lunch with Colin and his fellow second year friends. They mostly stared at the scar on her forehead and had her answer questions about the Gryffindor Quidditch team, the Chamber of Secrets, and why she stayed behind. The moment the rune covered, silver hand of her watch jumped to 4 o’clock, Siria dashed to the Entrance Hall.  
“You were supposed to meet me at Remus’s,” Sirius told her with a huge smile on his face.  
“It’s not my fault you arrived during lunch,” smirked Siria. They walked around the grounds. He said nothing of the hunt for Peter Pettigrew. Though curious, she didn’t bring it up. They talked about her classes, how she had kept this mandrake leaf under her tongue for almost two whole months, and about Quidditch practice.  
“How late?” Sirius asked.  
“We go back as a whole team,” Siria told him.  
“Siria, with Peter on the loose, it really doesn’t matter if it’s the whole team.” He argued.  
“Then come and watch us.” She baited. “I’ve always wanted my dad to come to my sport practice.” It was difficult for her to not emphasis “dad.” The moment she started the word, she became aware of it and accidently drew it out. Sirius appeared to have not noticed.  
“Snuffles may be able to stop by, but I’ll have a talk with McGonagall to see if Madam Hooch or someone can’t watch.”  
Professor Lupin met them on their last lap around the grounds. To no one’s surprise, he agreed Siria shouldn’t be going to practice so late. He made things worse with “is that why you’ve been tired?” Siria’s stomach sank to the ground. She clamped her teeth down. To stop Sirius from marching to Hogsmeade and threatening Wood, Siria hung on Sirius’s arm.  
“It isn’t practice!” She shouted again.  
“Then what?” Sirius asked for at least the fifth time.  
“I— Uh!” Siria gave a dramatic sigh that Sirius would have otherwise been proud of. “I’m having nightmares!” She hissed.  
“About Voldemort?” Sirius asked while Professor Lupin asked “Dementors?”  
“Dementors?” Sirius repeated while looking at Professor Lupin. They both looked to Siria, who rolled her eyes then looked to the ground. Inaudibly, she grumbled. Very slightly, she gave a nod.  
“How long have you had them?” Sirius asked. “No.” He shook his head. “Siria, what can I do to help?” She shrugged. “I could be Snuffles and stay with you, always.” He suggested.  
“Sirius,” Professor Lupin whispered.  
“Siria is having nightmares, enough that you noticed she was tired— but didn’t even write me,” Sirius pointed the last words through clenched teeth. “Uh!” He groaned. “My dear, sweet Siria. What if…” He trailed off.  
“You could teach her the Patronus Charm.” Professor Lupin suggested.  
“Remus, YOU should teach her the Patronus Charm” Sirius countered.  
It came on so quickly, Siria nearly gasped. Joy, pure and raw joy filled her. Her heart felt lighter than it ever had before. As if nothing bad had ever happened, she was overcome with happiness. Into the happiness, a raspy voice told her “Go to the Willow.” On their own, her feet followed the command. She started toward the Whomping Willow, unaware of Sirius and Professor Lupin asking why she changed direction.  
Something inside Siria rang into the happiness and asked “But why?” When her feet stopped moving forward, the harsh voice called again “Come to the Willow!” The dissension between the voices was sending ripples of discomfort through her overflowing felicity. “But why?” the second voice repeated. Her own voice echoed through her mind, “Yeah. Why?” Though her feet tried to move closer to the Willow, her knees buckled under her in their attempt to stop her. As Siria fell to the ground, the happiness seemed to shatter and was immediately replaced with fear.  
“What— What was that?” Siria stammered. She shook terribly and, Sirius tried to help her back to her feet, she fell back down. “I— The Whomping Willow was calling me to it.” Her throat was closing as she spoke.  
“Siria,” Sirius stroked her back, as if she were nauseous, while he knelt beside her. “You’re okay. You’re safe and healthy. Remus is going to take you back up to the castle and I’ll go—” Her hand snapped to his arm.  
“Don’t leave me, please!” She pleaded. “I— I’m— what happened?” Sirius looked to the Whomping Willow then to Professor Lupin.  
“Let’s get you to Poppy,” Professor Lupin instructed. Sirius swept Siria off of the ground and carried her, despite her protests.  
Madam Pomfrey looked over Siria for half an hour, which had been Siria’s longest inspection, but nothing was found. She was brought a smaller goblet of the gold smoking, red potion she drank earlier. They talked about having Professor Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff House and the Herbology Professor, take a look at it tomorrow.  
Once the heat from the potion hit her, Siria felt a little better. “I just don’t understand.” Siria confessed. “I had been so happy when it called, but I didn’t want to go at the same time.” Madam Pomfrey, Professor Lupin, and Sirius looked to Siria then froze.  
“Happy, you say?” Sirius asked. His dignified voice was slower than usual as though each word was being forced into sounding calm.  
“Yes?” She looked up at him. The tree making her feel happy seemed to mean something to the three of them that they weren’t willing to share. They ushered her back to the Gryffindor common room, to wait for the feast. She didn’t understand what had happened, only that, after feeling so happy, she felt unbelievably sad and like she would never be that happy again.


	10. Nightmares and Falls

**Nightmares and Falls**   


“A! —ria! SIRIA!” A chorus of voices shouted her name, but it was Fay and Hermione knocking Siria onto the floor that woke her. Siria jumped to her feet and looked around, expecting there to be a fire drill, but the four other girls just looked at her.  
“You were having nightmare” Lavender told her. Her eyes were large and full of worry.  
“Another one,” Hermione told her firmly.  
“Sorry,” Siria whispered while she picked her blanket off the floor.  
“Siria, you don’t have to be sorry.” Parvati placed her hand on Siria’s shoulder. “We’re worried about you.”  
“Yes!” Lavender nodded. “You got better for awhile, but they’ve been terrible since Thursday.”  
“Talk with us.” Fay pleaded. She sat down at the foot of Siria’s bed, with Hermione.  
Siria pulled her blanket onto the the bed with her. Lavender and Parvati sat down. The girls listened to the silence until Siria spoke again. “The dementors just really freaked me out. I—” Siria hung her head on her knees. “When it got close, I heard a woman scream and— and I can’t get it out of my head.”  
“Oh, Siria!” Lavender gasped. Hermione placed her hand on Siria’s knee.  
“Halloween, I don’t know how to explain it, but I—” Siria opened and closed her hand, as though she was trying to pull the words out of the air. She looked to Hermione then to the blanket. “It was like, I was hit with the greatest happiness ever— out of nowhere, I was happier than I’d ever been, but there was this weird voice telling me to go to the Whomping Willow and something inside me asked ‘Why?’ and I just…” She closed her eyes and pressed her head back to her knees. “When I asked why, I started to kind of panic, but I was still trying to go to the Willow until I tried and tried not to and fell.”  
“That explains a lot, actually.” Fay confessed to Siria. “You were muttering that you didn’t want to and you wanted to stay.”  
“Siria!” Lavender threw her arms around Siria. “I’m so sorry!”  
“We didn’t know.” Parvati told her and took one of Siria’s hands. Hermione patted Siria’s knee.  
“If there’s anything we can do, we’re here for you.” Fay smiled at Siria from the end of the bed. Tears burst from Siria’s eyes. Relief poured from her and she felt like the nightmares had been a little silly. She didn’t even know if the woman was real or a figment of her imagination at this point.  
Dark and early on Saturday morning, Madam Hooch was on the Quidditch field, waiting for the Gryffindor team with Professor McGonagall. Very shortly and cleary, Professor McGonagall explained that she, Madam Hooch, or another professor would be over seeing their matches. She didn’t say why, but Wood argued that, as long as it didn’t interfere with practice, he didn’t care either way. Practice battered them with a chilling wind, but had been dry for the first time in a week. Ron had gotten rather good at scoring past Wood, but only caught the occasional goal himself.  
Sunday morning, Siria arrived to the study group with Fay, Mandy Brocklehurst, and Hermione, and Lavender and Parvati, the latter two of them had just joined that day. Parvati giggled when she opened the door, but led the way inside. Lavender followed suit and giggled as well. At the desk near the front, four Slytherins sat— Travers and Warrington had returned with a third year Slytherin girl and, by the looks for it, her younger sister.  
“Potter, if you would,” Professor McGonagall called Siria to the Slytherins’ desk. “Surely you remember Ms. Travers,” Travers waved at Siria with her green painted nails. Siria gave a meek open and close of her own hand. “Mr. Warrington,” he nodded and she did in return, “and you know Ms. Daphne Greengrass,” the third year Slytherin girl smiled slightly at Siria. “This is her sister, Ms. Astoria Greengrass. You’ve done such a splendid job with Mr. Creevey and Ms. Weasley that I recommended you to help Ms. Greengrass, who has been excelling and wants to learn more.”  
“Cool,” Siria told them in a strained tone. If she was supposed to help Astoria or Daphne Greengrass, why were Travers, Warrington and the other Greengrass sister here? She also wanted to know why Travers and Warrington, who were more experienced, couldn’t help.  
“I’ll leave you to it, Potter.” and Professor McGonagall did just that.  
“So, what brought you all here?” Siria asked as she pulled up a chair. Travers pulled Siria’s chair closer and Siria’s heart hammered into her ears.  
“Astoria’s shy and doesn’t think ‘famous Siria Potter’ wants to teach her.” Travers whispered. Her breath smelt like strawberries and for some reason, Siria could only nod in reply. “Good girl.” Travers ruffled Siria’s mane of wild hair.  
Astoria turned out to have a knack for Transfiguration. When Colin learned they were turning mice into snuffboxes, he came over to try and help. Astoria had the same soft brown hair as Daphne and a similar soft voice, but Astoria’s was higher. She was very animated and excited. Once she turned the mouse into a snuffbox, she hugged Colin and Siria then requested to go again.  
“You can practice on your now or with him,” Travers told her. “It’s our turn to help Potter.” Siria’s face flushed.  
“I don’t need help.” said Siria.  
“With Potions?” Warrington asked.  
“I mean, if you’ve got the time, I’d appreciate the help.” Siria rubbed the back of her neck.  
“Pull it out, Potter.” Travers instructed. They moved back a table, while Daphne, Astoria, and Colin stayed at the front one. Astoria and Colin brought each of their Snuffboxes to Siria while Travers and Warrington helped her with her Potions essay on the properties of Armoteia, which could be liquified into an acidic solution of varying strengths or else powdered and mixed into a paste of Flitterbloom and Goosegrass to make a red balm for relieving rashes.  
(Book: B3, 170-173 Snape oversees their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, which he does on werewolves and assigns a huge essay on them. He calls Hermione an “insufferable know-it-all” and gives Ron detention of cleaning the Hospital Wing bedpans for talking back. I know the Full Moon is 10/18/2013 [Friday] DADA= Thursday, but plot, ya know)

Their next Sunday study group, Astoria and Daphne arrived alone. Siria got Astoria started on turning beetles into buttons. Colin hurried to take over helping Astoria, which left Daphne with Siria. “So,” Siria drummed her fingers on the table.  
“I’m just here for my sister.” said Daphne.  
“You don’t have anything you want help in?” Siria asked.  
“Do you get some sort of fulfillment in helping others, Potter?” she asked.  
“I mean, I guess?” Siria shrugged and pulled out her werewolf essay. “We mostly started because Lockhart wasn’t teaching us anything, but, with the Chamber being opened, it got put on hold. I hadn’t expected so many people to want to spend their Sunday morning studying and practicing.” Daphne hummed a sigh and they fell silent.  
Their little study group had been larger than Siria intended at their very first meeting. Since then, Terry Boot had brought yet another other student from their Arithmancy class, not including the few that had shown up in their second meeting. Ernie MacMillan had invited Susan Bones and Lily Moon from Hufflepuff. Mandy Brocklehurst and Fay invited Padma Patil. Neville and Ron had convinced Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas to join. Colin had two to three friends that would occasionally show up. By the time Lavender and Parvati joined last week, they had at least twenty people each Sunday.  
“Even Hermione can’t help everyone!” Ernie MacMillan exclaimed.  
“Which is why we made the schedule— we’re talking about Arithmancy!” Terry Boot barked at him.  
“No— you were, but it’s ten, and we had agreed she would help with Ancient Runes” Lily Moon, a Hufflepuff third year told them. She pointed to the clock on the wall. Hermione looked to Ron, who didn’t see because he was reading a magazine Luna Lovegood had given him. She turned to Siria.  
“How can I help?” Siria mouthed. Hermione shrugged and looked about to cry. Astoria and Colin looked to Siria, who waved them to stay. She got to her feet. Daphne, much to Siria’s surprise, walked with her to Hermione.  
“I’m also taking Ancient Runes,” Daphne told Lily Moon.  
“And I grew up with Muggles, so I can probably help” Siria supposed.  
“And I can help with Arithmancy, if you need” the cool voice of Susan Bones told them. They split into the groups until noon, when Professor McGonagall insisted they enjoy the rest of their Sunday.  
In the common room that night, Hermione leaned to ask Siria something, but sat back up in her chair when Wood flung his arm around Siria’s. “Have they asked you anything?” Wood asked Siria.  
“Has who asked me?” Siria asked in reply.  
“The Slytherins— Colin’s just told me. Warrington’s buddies with Flint, and they’re both related to the Greengrass girls. They aren’t there to learn, they’re spies.” Wood informed her in complete and total seriousness.  
“You’re joking.” Siria told him.  
“Look, Potter—”   
“Look, Wood! Not one of them has said anything about Quidditch. They aren’t ‘spies’!” She rolled her eyes. “Astoria likes Transfiguration and we’re helping her— Daphne was helping people in Ancient Runes today. The Ravenclaws are too focused on studying and helping people study they don’t have the time to ask about Quidditch and the Hufflepuffs are too interested in fairness for that to cross their minds! No one is saying anything about Quidditch.” Siria rose to her feet.  
Wood was over a head taller than Siria, so she had to look up at him while she glared. Fred and George clapped, not in applause, but to wrap things up. “Oliver,” Fred soothed.  
“If you’re that worried,” said George.  
“Just go with her.” Fred finished.  
“Fine, the Gryffindor Team will be there.” Wood instructed. Siria mouthed wordlessly to Fred and George. They chased after Wood to argue they were needed at the Sunday study group.

Never had Siria seen worse conditions for Quidditch than on Saturday. Outside there was a storm of wind, rain, and frost. She woke in the middle of the night from another nightmare about the Whomping Willow calling her. Siria shook Hermione. “‘Mione, could I sleep with you?” she asked. Hermione rolled over and made room in reply. Siria threw her blanket onto the bed and crawled in. The storm outside kept her up for so long she was too tired to remember falling asleep.  
In the morning, Siria rushed to the Hospital Wing and convinced Madam Pomfrey to give her one of the gold smoking, ruby potions. Over breakfast, Hermione took Siria’s glasses. “Remember, I don’t know how long it will last, but it should help— Impervius!” Siria put her glasses back on and didn’t notice anything until they were on the field and the rain seemed to fall right off her glasses, which let her see clearly.  
The wind whipped so furiously and loudly that Siria couldn’t hear a word. When she kicked into the air, it was worse. Even though she could see, she could only hear the howling of the wind. Lee Jordan’s commentary was lost in the storm. Within minutes, she was drenched the bone, freezing, and only knew that Slytherin had scored at least once. Lightning flashed and lit the stadium. The thunder vibrated through Siria. She couldn’t take it and shot into the sky. Malfoy saw her and chased after her, no doubt thinking she saw the Snitch.  
There was no avoiding it, Siria fired herself straight through a thick, hearty cloud. Malfoy came out just a moment later and nearly crashed into her. He looked around wildly. Her heart was racing, but the storm was calmer. “Where is it?” Malfoy barked.  
“No idea,” Siria confessed. She felt her heart, which was roaring as loudly as the thunder below them. “I couldn’t hear anything.”  
“I think we’re winning. “ Malfoy told her, but his voice told her he didn’t have any confidence in it.   
She knew what she had to do. Siria took a large, swelling breath and dove back through the storm. Lightning flashed all around her, with Malfoy on her tail. “THERE!” She bellowed into the storm that devoured her voice. Siria pressed herself to the broom and dove for the small spark of gold she’d seen reflect the lightning.  
(Book: B3, 178-179 at least a hundred dementors flood the Quidditch field. Siria hears her mother begging Voldemort to spare Siria’s life. Voldemort laughs. Lily Potter screams. Siria passes out.)

“Can’t believe he caught her.”  
“It’s your fault if our Seeker dies!”  
“He did it to himself!”  
“I thought they were going to die.” (B3, 179)  
“But she didn’t even break her glasses.” (B3, 179)  
(Book: B3, 179-180 Siria stirs to find her whole body aching. She remembers the dementors and opens her eyes. The Gryffindor team is around her bed and caked in mud. Hermione and Ron are drenched. Fred, who is especially pale, asks how she feels. She remembers the lightning, the Snitch, and the dementors. Siria asks what happened, learns she fell off her broom)  
“After he caught you, you two fell,” said Fred.   
“Must’ve been some— what— thirty, forty feet” finished George.  
“We thought you’d died,” said Alicia, who was shaking. (B3, 180)  
Hermione made a small, squeaky nose; her eyes were extremely bloodshot (B., 180). There was a fair amount of ruckuss beyond the curtain beside Siria’s bed. It sounded like someone else had visitors.  
“The match?” Siria asked.  
“Cancelled.” Wood told her. “We can’t play without Seekers.”  
Madam Pomfrey let out a cry of outrage. “Headmaster!” She exclaimed. The team turned their attention to the newly opened doors. Professor Dumbledore himself had come with Sirius, as Snuffles. The bear of a dog pushed through the crowd and licked Siria’s face. He hopped onto the bed. “I assure you, Poppy, that this dog is very clean and will be on his best behavior. Sirius sent him to watch the match.”  
“Please Madam Pomfrey!” Siria pleaded, her arms around Snuffles’s neck. She got her wish. The Gryffindor team was shooed out, along with the other visitors, but Snuffles stayed. Madam Pomfrey removed the curtains and Siria gasped. “Best behaviours!” Madam Pomfrey snapped at them.  
“Should have known,” Malfoy grumbled. “Your stupid dog looks like the Grim.” Snuffles growled at Malfoy, but laid over Siria’s legs.  
“Don’t tell me the dementors got you too,” Siria tsked.  
“No. I—” Malfoy tsked and adjusted his pillow so he could sit up better. “I tried to catch you.” The fuzzy voices Siria had heard when she started to stir filled her head. The first thing she’d made out was “Can’t believe he caught her.” To be honest, she couldn’t believe it either. Siria buried her fingers into Snuffles’s thick, warm fur. “Thanks.” she muttered into the quiet Hospital Wing.  
“Don’t get used to it.”

Hermione and Ron visited Siria again that evening.  
(Book: B3, 181-182 She learns that Professor Dumbledore slowed the fall, chased away the dementors, magiced them onto stretchers, and brought them to the Hospital Wing. She also learns that her Nimbus Two Thousand crashed into the Whomping Willow and is in pieces.)  
“Well, Snuffles, at least I wasn’t on a Nimbus Two Thousand Two.” She tried to smile.

When she woke Sunday morning, Malfoy was already up. He was surrounded by boxes of sweets, a fruit basket and very thick, wool blanket. On the floor beside his bed was a now empty box, large enough for Snuffles.  
“All your godfather sent was a bear, Potter,” Malfoy smirked as he took an apple from the basket.  
“All your parents sent was a box.” Siria scratched behind Snuffles’s ears.  
“I’m just saying, he hasn’t sent a letter or anything.”  
“I’m just saying that I’d rather have Snuffles. Sirius would have visited himself, but Madam Pomfrey would have shooed him away. Snuffles got permission to stay and hasn’t left my side.” She smiled at the wagging tail of the bear of a dog on her bed. For the first time, she had slept peacefully through the night. Siria rather wished she could bring Snuffles back to the dorm, but Sirius had work to do.

(Book: B3, 183 Siria gets a large string of visitors over the weekend)  
“Is that nice?” Malfoy grumbled after Hermione and Ron left that night. Pansy Parkinson had stopped by, but she had been the only one. His parents had sent the box and a letter. Siria had been visited by the Gryffindor team, at least half the Sunday studygroup, and Snuffles had remained by her side since he arrived. Ginny Weasley had brought her a card. Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ernie MacMillan had snuck in a personalized shepherd's pie. Colin Creevey stopped by with Astoria and Daphne Greengrass. Astoria had left her favorite of the buttons she’d Transfigured for Siria.  
“What do you want visitors for?” Siria asked. “I haven’t left your side.” Malfoy scoffed.  
“Because you’re stuck here too.”  
“Even if I could leave, I wouldn’t have.” She confessed.  
Professor Dumbledore had slowed their fall and saved the both of them, but Malfoy had tried. The same Malfoy that taunted and baited her had tried to save her. She wouldn’t have it in her to leave him alone in the otherwise quiet, eerie Hospital Wing.


	11. Patronus

**Patronus**   


Although Malfoy had not made a single comment about Hermione or Ron, Siria fainting from the dementors, and had not said anything about cushioning her fall, the two were relieved when Madam Pomfrey discharged them Monday morning. Wood’s gaze was so low, Siria was convinced he was trying to see behind his own feet. With her broom in pieces and the weather still poor, Professor McGonagall suspended Gryffindor practice. Ron tried to argue that Siria could use his broom, but broom or not, no one wanted Siria back into the storm.  
(Book: B3, 185-186 Professor Lupin is back and had dismissed Snape’s essay. He does the lesson then asks Siria to stay back)

“As you may remember, on Halloween, Sirius and I were discussing the Patronus Charm.” Professor Lupin began. “With you unable to play right now, Sirius thought it may be a good time to start, if you’re up for it.”  
“Will it help?” Siria asked. “With the dementors?”  
“If you can master the Charm, but I must warn you, it is above O.W.L. level.”  
“When can we start?” Siria asked. At this point, she wouldn’t care if it was above N.E.W.T. level or if it meant she had to eat a jar of mandrake leaves a day. If it would keep the dementors away, she would do just about anything. They agreed to start on Thursday, if she stayed in fair health the rest of the week.  
(Book: B3, 236-242, 187 Siria meets Professor Lupin in the History of Magic classroom at 8pm on Thursday. Lupin collected a boggart for them to use. He explains how the Charm works: it requires a strong, very happy memory & makes a shield of sorts. Siria doesn’t get the Patronus Charm at first and ends up hearing James’s voice. She confesses to hearing Voldemort murder Lily. They tries again and she makes a weak one. They agree to meet next week.)

The trunk slammed shut as Hermione climbed inside. Siria looked up from a letter from Sirius. “Yes?” She asked as she quickly slid the letter into the first book she grabbed.  
“Siria,” Hermione pulled a chair out and sat down, “I have kind of an odd request.”  
“More odd than ‘ask no questions, let me use the Cloak and tell everyone I’ve forgotten something’? Because I kind of doubt that.”  
“Siria.” Hermione’s brown eyes peered through Siria’s glasses. “I’m being serious.”  
“He’d be more theatrical,” Siria winked, but found now was not the time for jokes.  
Bags were growing under Hermione’s eyes, which were slightly bloodshot. Her bushy hair went off in every direction, as if she’d given up brushing it. She had slumped onto the table, with her shoulders weighed down by the books she usually carried, even though she didn’t have them at the moment.  
“Would you be willing to let me use the rooms of your trunk? I could just hang a little sign or something. I’ve something I need to do, without it being disturbed, and I—” Hermione looked on the verge of tears. Siria reached across the table and put her hand on Hermione’s.  
“Sure. I just need to move my clothes to the yellow point and my books over to the orange, and it’s all yours.” Siria assured her.  
“Really?” Hermione asked.  
“Really.” Siria nodded as she got to her feet to start collecting things.  
“You’re really interested in Animagi, aren’t you?” said Hermione. Siria who had just grabbed the book she’d stuffed Sirius’s letter into froze.  
“What makes you say that?” she asked. Hermione pointed to her book,  
“You’re re-reading Animagi.”  
“Oh, yeah. I really like it.” She turned to the bookshelf, to put the letter into another book, but Hermione came over to help.  
When they had moved the things Siria would want out of the room points of the stars, it was nearly time for bed. Hermione offered to let Siria share her bed, as that had helped her sleep in the past. Siria told Hermione she would be fine. She wanted to finish Sirius’s letter. Once the other girls had gone to bed, Siria pulled the blanket over her head and cast “Lumos” to finally read it.

Dear Siria,  
READ ALONE  
As you’re able to keep the leaf under your tongue for twice as long as needed, it’s time to move on. When you’re alone, tap your wand to the second page and say “I solemnly swear I am up to no good” and, when you’re done, tap it with your wand again and say “mischief managed.” Also, please burn this letter.   


She pulled the second page out from behind the instructions and did as they told her.  
On the next full moon, remove the old mandrake leaf and put a new one under your tongue.  
On the following full moon, if the sky is clear, I’ll come to help you with the rest.  
If the full moon is not visible, you’ll have to start over with a new mandrake leaf (every month until there is a clear full moon). I will have everything else ready.  
Practice saying “Amato Animo Animato Animagus” as clearly as you possibly can. You’ll have to say it for an entire day.  
Remember: Mischief managed.  
She looked over the instructions a few more times before tapping the page with “Mischief Managed,” which turned the page blank. Siria snuck into the potions room of her trunk and burned the first page of the letter. She placed the other one with her clothes after writing “Dear Sirius,” so anyone that saw would think it was just an unfinished letter to her godfather.

Over their match at the end of November, Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff. Wood, who had been worried about the two teams’ change ups, found this to be great news. He found it to be even better news when Hufflepuff beat Slytherin. Fred and George voiced it was a shame Hufflepuff couldn’t beat Slytherin out of the running completely.  
On the Sunday after Hufflepuff’s match against Slytherin, Warrington and Travers, who had not been in since November, sat with Astoria and Colin. When she saw them, Hannah Abbott of all people marched up to their table. Even though Travers glared at her, Hannah gave her best smile. “Your team played really well.” Hannah told them. Her voice was steady, but her hands trembled at her sides. Travers dropped her glare.  
“Of course we did.” she told Hannah.

(Book: B3, 245-248 Siria is able to produce the silvery shadow of the Patronus, but is not there yet. Lupin tells Siria about the Dementor’s Kiss, which sucks the soul out of the recipient and makes them a hollow, emotionless husk.  
B3, 189-194 Fred and George give Siria the Marauder’s Map before they head to Hogsmeade. The Marauder’s Map allows her to see everyone in all of Hogwarts, shows the secret passages, and is a great tool)

Siria held the map in her hands and looked at the curly, green writing of: Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. She scanned over the map for Professor Lupin, who she saw in his office. With a tap of her wand and a “Mischief managed!” she hurried over. The moment she pounded on the door, he opened it.  
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Professor Lupin confessed, but smiled at her.  
“May I come in? I’ve something private to ask you.” Siria could feel herself trembling and hear it through her voice.  
“Of course.” He nodded and closed the door behind her. Siria sat before his desk and placed the currently blank, old map on it. Professor Lupin looked innocently from the paper to Siria. He said nothing. She tapped the parchment with her wand and he raised his hand.  
“I know this map.” Professor Lupin told her.  
“I know.” She tucked her wand into her jacket. “I know that you and Sirius both know, and I don’t care about the map. What I care about is Moony & Padfoot or, rather, that I think you’re them.”  
“If we were, wouldn’t you rather hear it from Sirius?” He asked.  
“But he doesn’t want me to know about his ‘boring’ job.” She told him. Siria slouched into the chair and stared at her hands.  
“I would be more than happy to discuss it, after you’ve spoken with him.” Professor Lupin slid the parchment over to Siria. She looked over her glasses at him then pocketed the map and excused herself.  
Siria was torn between using the map to go to Hogsmeade and keeping her word with Sirius. She had told him that she wouldn’t do anything he would and knew he meant to stay out of trouble and be safe. While going to Hogsmeade wouldn’t necessarily be unsafe, it would involve leaving the grounds. Siria sighed and wandered until lunch time, when she headed for the Great Hall.  
Colin Creevey was there with his usual group of fellow second years, who insisted Siria join them. They spent a long time looking at her scar again, as if it had grown since the last time they saw it, which it had not. Siria took her frustration out on her food. She stabbed her at her plate more forcefully than usual and sighed excessively. “Once he’s caught,” she told herself, “once he’s caught I can go to Hogsmeade.”

Dear Sirius,  
You know what this is. I know what this is.  
I’ve taken the steps, as per your other letter, which works like this one.  
If you can, I’d really like to talk to you about it. I know you’re looking for Peter and that I’ve caused you to take a lot of breaks from it, but can you take one more?  
Love,  
Siria  


She looked over her letter again before she folded it around the blank Marauder’s Map, stuffed it into an envelope, and took it to Hedwig in the owlery.


	12. Firebolt

**Firebolt**   


(B3, 222 The castle is decked for Christmas: full of Christmas trees, decorations, and smells like the holidays)  
Christmas morning, Siria and Hermione woke to the ground around the bed surrounded in presents. Siria helped Hermione climb onto her desk then offered her a hand while she stepped down. Hermione rolled her eyes as Siria gave a huge yawn. “How is it you yawn more when you sleep well?” Hermione asked.  
“Do you want me to have nightmares or do you want me to yawn?” Siria asked while she tore the wrapping from what was unmistakably her new Weasley sweater.  
“The yawning. My bed is your bed.” Hermione smiled at her while they sat down the floor.  
Mrs. Weasley had sent Siria a new emerald green sweater and a new cherry red one for Hermione. Each of the girls had gotten a tin of homemade fudge and a lovely handwritten note, expressing to ask permission to come to the Burrow over summer. Siria pulled the sweater over her head while she smiled at how Mrs. Weasley had wrote “ask your godFather, who, like the carrying parent he is, will allow you at least a week…”  
“What is it?’ Hermione asked. Siria had bitten into a piece of the fudge, but stopped to smile to herself.  
“Hm?” Siria asked with the piece of fudge still between her teeth.  
“You’re smiling like an idiot.” Hermione told her flatly. Siria bit through and licked her teeth. She rested the letter on her knee and looked to the presents.  
“‘Mione, is it crazy to say that I would trade all this” Siria gestured to her presents, “that” she pointed to her trunk, “and everything else that’s mine for Sirius to adopt me? For Sirius to WANT to adopt me?”  
“No.” Hermione shook her head. “But, you know, I think there’s more to being family than paperwork.”  
“Because we’re sisters?” Siria grinned wider and tilted her head, which caused her messy tangle of hair to flop to one side. Hermione mirrored Siria’s joy.  
“Yes.”  
Chloe had sent Siria a violently purple box, which opened in tens of ways and seemed to be full of colored powders, gels, and tubes. She had sent Hermione a soft, pale pink box of the same design, but full of different colors. “It’s a makeup box.” Hermione told Siria, as Siria continued to rub the brushes along her hand. “Seems we’ll be busy this summer— a week at the Burrow and a week with Sirius, if Chloe gets things her way.” Hermione extended a letter that had been taped to the top her box, which had Chloe’s demand that Hermione “absolutely must come! It’s the more important thing you’ll do all summer. I’ll handle everything.”  
“Well, Chloe does what she wants.” said Siria. Hermione folded the letter back up and placed it into the top compartment of her box.  
“Speaking of Chloe…” Hermione looked to Siria.  
“I still don’t know if Sirius is dating anyone. He only ever tells me that it’d cut into his time with me. I don’t know if that’s the excuse he gives other people or what,” Siria confessed as she opened Remus’s gift, a book on Defensive Charms.  
“Hermione,” Siria paused while peeling back the paper of Hermione’s gift.  
“Yes?” Hermione prompted while opening Siria’s gift to her.  
“What’s it like to like someone?” To Siria’s surprise, Hermione broke into a small fit of giggles. She rolled onto the ground while she laughed and gasped for breath. Then she sat up and flattened her bushy hair.  
“I’m sorry Siria, but I’m hardly the person to ask. I’ve only ever liked one person.” Hermione confessed.  
“You liked someone? Who?” Siria pried. Hermione nervously flattened her hair more.  
“Well, it’s silly, really. There was this assistant that helped in the library at my old school.” Hermione blushed softly. “I always wanted to talk with them, but they were in secondary school. I got so nervous that I never got close enough. There was just something about them that made my heart flutter, but I couldn’t even get close enough to see if I had a crush on a boy or girl— but…” Hermione sighed.  
“Sorry,” she grumbled “it’s probably weird to hear I might have liked a girl.”  
“Why?” Siria asked. “Is that weird?” she felt the panic in her voice.  
“No? Maybe? I don’t know.” Hermione confessed.  
“But you said it was weird.” Siria pointed. Hermione fell back onto the cold floor.  
“Lavender and Parvati only ever talk about which boys are cute. When they talk about other girls, it’s what they don’t like about them.” Hermione pressed her eyes closed.  
“They’re jealous— really!” Siria insisted when Hermione scoffed. “They say Travers is ‘too tall’, the Penelope Clearwater’s hair is ‘too curly’, and that you’re ‘too smart’! No one can be any of those things!”  
Hermione didn’t seem convinced and Siria spent the next quarter of an hour going over the negative things Lavender and Parvati had said about other girls. When she was done, Hermione only said “I suppose” and sighed heavily. They went back to unwrapping their presents, while the thought of finding another girl pretty being weird haunted Siria in the back of her mind.  
The girls packed away their new presents and changed into their day clothes. Siria pulled back the curtain around her bed and dropped her blanket on the floor in surprise. “A broom!” She exclaimed and began tearing the paper from around what was unmistakably a broom. Siria paused with the torn wrappings in her hands, she looked from the broom to Hermione then back. “This— this is a Firebolt!”  
The way its ash handle seemed to glitter before her left her starstruck. Its fine, birch tail seemed as if each twig were polished. In her hands, the Firebolt vibrated. She let go and the broom was suspended in midair, unsupported, at the perfect height for her to mount it (B3, 223). Hung loosely around the base of the broom was a long, thin silver ribbon with a letter strunk through.

Dear Siria, Tuesday night, the 31st, sit by the fire in the common room. Don’t fly until the weather’s better.   
Love,   
Sirius   


As if the broom were a crown, Siria carried it before her, down the stairs, into the common room, and into the boys’ dorm. “FIREBOLT!” She bellowed into Ron’s room. Hermione sighed, but Ron practically flew out of his bed at the sight of the broom in Siria’s hands.  
“You got a Firebolt?” Ron exclaimed. He went to touch the broom, but simply carrassed the air above it. “Siria,” Ron gave an echoing laugh, “Malfoy! Wait until he sees you on this!” (B3, 224) She shifted the broom away from Ron.  
“Ron” Hermione scolded as she pet Crookshanks.  
“Yeah. I mean, Malfoy sucks, but he did try to save me.” Siria argued.  
“You’d have been fine! It’s like George said, your glasses didn’t even break.” Ron waved it off.  
“I might have, but he didn’t know that. I’m not saying he’s okay now, but don’t ruin the enjoyment of the Firebolt by saying the person that may have saved my life is going to be jealous.” Siria didn’t know how she felt about Malfoy any more.  
Malfoy was a selfish jerk who called her friends names. When she had nearly swallowed the Snitch in her first year, Malfoy told everyone a frog would be replacing her in the next match. Their second year he had not only called Hermione a “Mudblood”, but said he hoped she died. This year, he’d gone out of his way to try spread her humiliation about fainting over the dementors. He still shouted about it, even if he’d stopped his spirited impressions of her fainting spell.  
Siria looked from the broom to Ron and sighed. She extended it out, for him to hold. “You’re right though— he is going to go mad with envy. I heard his father got him the Nimbus Two Thousand and Three.” The two talked at length about her broom until it was nearly lunchtime. Siria secured the Firebolt into her trunk then went to the Great Hall with Hermione and Ron.  
(Book: B3, 227 the Great Hall’s usual tables have been removed for a table of twelve because there’s so few of them that Dumbledore thought this would be better. Aside from Hermione, Ron, & Siria there are two very nervous first years & a sullen faced fifth year Slytherin plus some of the Professors)

At the sight of the Slytherin fifth year, Siria’s heart stopped. Of all the students in the school, why was it Travers? Her thick kniky hair bounced around her beautiful face. She had flecks of red and green glitter in her hair and had painted her nails to match. Travers’s expression lightened when she saw Siria and she pulled the chair beside her out.  
“Potter,” Travers grinned. Siria’s words got lost on the way out and she gave an odd grunt while she sat beside Travers. Hermione sat beside Siria while Ron took the last seat. “It’s good to see a friendly face,” Travers told Siria. Snape and Filch were the only ones not smiling or otherwise looking friendly. Even the first years were at least smiling awkwardly.  
(Book: B3, 228-230 Professor Trelawney comes down and says she saw herself leaving her tower then says she can’t sit because then there will be 13 people, but the others insist, so she sits. After two hours of food & exploding snap, Ron & Siria rise from the table. Trelawney shrieks and asks which stood first, but they don’t know who did. Professor McGonagall says that “unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the entrance hall” it doesn’t matter)

Hermione and Travers followed Ron and Siria into the entrance hall. Travers tugged on Siria’s arm and smiled at the other two. “I’m just going to steal Potter for a quick minute— then she’ll be all yours!” She told them. Siria looked pleadingly to Hermione.  
“We can wait,” Hermione assured Travers.  
“Then wait,” and Travers pulled Siria by her arm toward the stairs leading to the Slytherin dorm. Siria watched over her shoulder as Hermione and Ron withdrew their wands and looked ready for a fight. She shook her head. Travers wasn’t going to attack her; of that, she was certain.  
“It’s about my cousin, kind of” Travers prefaced. “All us purebloods are related at the end of it.” Siria nodded. She’d learned that last year, when Sirius had pulled out his family tree. “Thing is, behind your back, everyone’s saying he likes you.” Siria had to repress a sigh. She didn’t catch the name of which cousin Travers said “ Do you like him?” Siria’s jaw dropped. It didn’t matter which cousin of Travers she was asking about, Siria didn’t like any of them. All of the nerves Siria had about being pulled away seemed to wash off her.  
“No. I don’t like your cousin.” Siria told Travers, rather flatly.  
“Damn,” Travers cursed under her breath. “Fair enough.” She patted Siria’s messy mane. “Alright, your friends are waiting,” and Travers twirled her wrist in gesture for Siria to leave.  
“Are you dating Warrington?” Siria spat out. A blush skidded across Travers’s nose.  
“Yeah.” She smirked and scratched sheepishly behind her ear.  
“How do you know you like him?” Siria asked, “if you don’t mind.” Her eyes fell to the stone floor. Travers grinned and cocked her head up.  
“Siria Potter asking a Slytherin about love— who’d’ve thought the day would come?” Travers asked with a tone of affection. She crossed her arms and shrugged. “It started out with the whole tongue-tied, butterflies in the stomach garbage, but…” A playful smile crossed her face. “One day, I got over that and I just felt calm around him. Like, when I was freaking out over finals, being near him felt like I’d taken a Calming Draft. He’s my giant, awkward sloth.”  
Travers pointed one of her long, red painted, green glitter striped nails at Siria. “You tell anyone, Potter,” Travers ran the finger over her neck “and you’re dead.” she finished. Siria nodded in reply and waved. She started making her way up the stairs, but rushed back down them. Down the empty hall, Siria shouted “Hey Travers, I hope I can be as cool you!” Siria exclaimed. Travers nodded at her and waved.

Tired and yawning, Siria crawled into her own bed. Hermione looked to her. “Are you sure?” she asked. Siria looked at the empty room, which suddenly felt colder than it had in weeks. She shook her head and crawled in beside Hermione. “Sorry.” She yawned.  
“You’d do the same.” said Hermione.  
They were startled awake sometime later by a harsh and piercing sound of crushed wood. Hermione and Siria grabbed their wands off the headboard of the bed and blasted through the curtains “Expelliarmus!” As they pulled Hermione’s curtains, they caught a flash of a person, who was gone before they fully saw him. Siria’s bed was a mess of cords and seemed partially Transfigured into a cage. They looked from the bed to each other.  
“RON!” Hermione shouted. She grabbed hold of Siria’s hand and rushed out of their dorm. The spiral staircase had turned into a slide. Hermione and Siria tightened their grip on their wands and headed for the boys’ dorm. Siria pulled the blankets from Ron’s bed to drag him out.  
“Bloody hell” he groaned. Ron glared up at them.  
“Someone was in our room!” Siria hissed.  
“Someone’s in my room!” Ron shouted back.  
“Someone broke in and we came to check on you!” Hermione barked at him. Her wand shook in her hand.  
“Bloody hell” he whispered under his breath.  
Wands in their hands, the trio rushed from Gryffindor Tower, calling for Professor McGonagall. The three showed her Siria’s bed. Not even ten minutes later, the professors, Hermione, Ron, Siria, Travers, and the two first years were in the Hospital Wing. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all the doors and windows of the wing while Professor Dumbledore informed the small lot that the castle needed to be searched (B3, 162).  
Madam Pomfrey eyed them and insisted they tuck themselves in. She brought Hermione and Siria a potion for Dreamless Sleep. Hermione downed hers almost immediately, but Siria eyed it suspiciously. Into the dark and quiet wing, she whispered “but what if something else happens?”  
“Then I’ll wake you, Potter.”


	13. Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor

**Hufflepuff versus Gryffindor**   


(Book: B3, 269 There are signs of increased security, such as Filch boarding up every hole in the walls— from tiny cracks to mouse holes. Professor Flitwick teaches the doors to recognize Peter Pettigrew)  
Hermione, Ron, and Siria sat by the fire of the otherwise empty common room. Tonight, she would have her talk with Sirius.  
“It could have been someone else” Ron continued his previous argument with Hermione on if Peter Pettigrew had broken into the dorm.  
“Honestly, Ron!” Hermione rolled her eyes “How many people go around Transfiguring Siria’s bed into a cage?”  
“I’m just saying that maybe Flitwick ought to teach the doors to recognize other Death Eaters.”  
Siria groaned and covered her ears. She’d grown tired of them having the same argument since Thursday morning. It didn’t matter if it was Pettigrew or not. Any minute now, Sirius’s face would appear in the fire… probably. He hadn’t been clear on that, but, if he wanted her to wait here, it only made sense.  
Hermione shouted and pointed into the fire. Dancing in the flames was the outline of Sirius’s face. Siria smiled at him. “How are you?” Siria asked.  
“Sirius?” Hermione seemed caught between startled and curious. They had finally found something she had not read about. He smiled at them.  
“I wasn’t expecting an audience.” The flaming figure of his face told them.  
“You love your drama,” Siria grumbled. She crossed her arms.  
“I honestly expected you to be more excited when you figured it out.” Said Sirius.  
Siria slid from her armchair to the spot of the carpet in front of the fireplace. Hermione picked Crookshanks into her lap while Ron looked from the door of the boys’ dorm to Sirius’s face in the fireplace. Sirius gave Siria half a smile while the flaming face’s forehead wrinkled.  
“So, I was just supposed to find out that you’re Padfoot by myself because I’d be excited?” Siria asked. She looked into his flaming eyes with such disbelief that his half smile fell.  
“I used to love finding things out— not school things, but like secret passages and anything someone didn’t want to tell me. There was a specific satisfaction to finding the truth myself” Sirius confessed. Siria rose to her feet.  
“Then find the truth about Regulus!” Siria exclaimed.  
“Regulus?” he asked in reply, but she was already marching up the stairs to her dorm.  
Hermione and Ron looked from each other to Sirius and shrugged. “She’s just on edge” Ron told him.  
“You’d be too, if someone did that to your bed!” Hermione lifted Crookshanks and carried him as she hurried after Siria.  
“What?” Sirius asked Ron. “What is Merlin’s name is happening?”

When the new term started, Siria was still fuming. For three years, Sirius had kept his job a secret because he thought it’d be good fun for Siria to find out on her own. She wasn’t just angry; she was furious. Sirius’s hand of her watch would occasionally tick to four o’clock, but she could only glare at it. Even if he were here on the grounds, she didn’t want to talk to him.  
Part of Siria knew she was petty. Sirius loved fun and, to him, going off to solve the case was fun. He had meant well. Sirius always meant well. She just wondered if he didn’t answer her about who he liked because he wanted her to figure it out “because it’s fun.” Siria glared up from her plate of eggs, at Wood. Her anger had her boiling over to the point she had not heard a word he said.  
“Did you, Potter?” Wood asked her.  
“Did I what?” Siria snapped back.  
“Get a broom! The match is Saturday! As in two days from now.” Wood smacked his forehead. “You haven’t said anything this whole time because you don’t have one?”  
“I have a broom.” she replied in a dry tone.  
“Why didn’t you say so sooner?” He asked.  
“Wood— shut up.” She told him and looked back to her eggs.  
Saturday was upon her in the blink of an eye. Siria stood on the Quidditch field, still lost in her own mind. Over and over again she told herself it was silly to be upset about it. The same voice that told her it was silly would then cry “but three years!” It would launch into how long she could have gone without knowing, if Fred and George hadn’t shown her the Marauder’s Map. If they had kept it to themselves, as she felt they should have, then she may have not figured it out for years.  
Madam Hooch called for them to kick off and Siria did so, her head still spinning. It wasn’t until they were in the air that time hit her. A week. Siria had been mad at Sirius for a week. She dove out of the way of a Bludger and looped back up. If Dobby had bewitched a Bludger to follow her on the Firebolt, she would have been fine.  
Today was her first time on the Firebolt. There was something about it that made her feel liberated, like someone breaking into the dorm over the holiday didn’t matter. Even as the wind spun around her, she felt like she could to anything. Siria launched into a loop around the field, looking high and low for the Snitch. She watched Angelina vault a goal past the Keeper in canary yellow robes. Siria had been so unfocused, she hadn’t even realized they were playing against Hufflepuff.  
“Gryffindor scores— 40 to 10!” Lee Jordan’s voice called over the magical megaphone. Then, she saw it, a small, twinkling, spot of gold by the Hufflepuff goal. Siria pressed herself to her broom and felt the Firebolt rocket her toward the Snitch.  
“No!” Siria cursed. Three hooded figures in black, flowing robes floated onto the Quidditch field and into Siria’s line to the Snitch. She looked from the dementors to the Snitch and bit her lip. Siria dove her hand into her boot, withdrew her wand, and turned it to the dementors. She squeezed her eyes closed and remembered, not how she had been mad at Sirius the past week and half, but the warmth she felt when she hugged him in the doorway of the room he had designed for her at Grimmauld Place— of the thundering of his heart, of how loved she felt, and how loved she still felt from it.  
“Expecto Patronum!” Silver like never before erupted from her wand. It wasn’t the meak, silvery shadow she usually produced. This was a force of silver. It charged at the dementors like a bull. Siria pulled her broom straight into the air, shooting herself for the Snitch, but she’d been too late. All the joy and rush she’d felt from the Patronus seemed to dissipate. Wide eyed and just as shocked as her, Cedric Diggory looked to her. His hand was wrapped around the fluttering, golden ball.  
She sank to the ground and, upon landing, fell to the snow. Her wand in one hand, broom in the other, and the Snitch in Diggory’s. Gryffindor had lost. Siria’s eyes fell shut in a shame far greater than when Malfoy had teased her about fainting on the train. Her fear of the dementors had cost them the match.  
“Siria,” Fred nudged her with his foot, while she laid, face down, in the cold.  
“Don’t beat yourself up,” said George.  
“Yeah. You’ve caught the others.” said Fred. The twins pulled her to her feet.   
“There had to be one time you didn’t get it” said George (B3, 180). Siria couldn’t lift her head. She felt like the stands were filled with a mountain of disappointed faces.  
“We just lost the cup.” Siria choked out. She blinked furiously to try and keep the tears back. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to hold in the sobs that wanted to escape her.  
“Not even close!” Fred shook his head.  
“We just have to win the next two” George patted some mud from Siria’s robes.  
“Wood’ll do the math,” said Fred.  
“Once he gets over himself” said George. They linked elbows with Siria to stop her from falling back to the ground.  
(Book: B3, 263 the three dementors were not dementors at all. Malfoy on Goyle’s shoulders, Crabbe, and Marcus Flint were dressed as dementors. Professor McGonagall is furious, the four of them have detention, and she’ll be speaking with Dumbledore about it)  
Siria’s head hung low as she dragged her feet beside Hermione and Ron, to Hagrid’s hut. On his doorstep was a large, shaggy, bear of a dog, wagging its tail. Hermione patted Siria’s back “Look!” She told her, “Sirius sent Snuffles! Isn’t that great?”  
“Yeah!” Ron nodded, “You love Snuffles!” Siria gave a very small nod and sat down on Hagrid’s porch, beside Snuffles. The other three continued to try and cheer Siria up, before Hagrid said Snuffles looked like he could use a walk and Siria ought to get some air.  
They walked silently some distance toward the ground’s entrance, as a girl and her dog. Siria was more disappointed over her loss than anything. She didn’t even have enough energy to be angry at him anymore; she felt like she didn’t have any energy. Siria sighed and sat in the cold, white snow. Hagrid’s cabin was a small dollhouse in the distance. Snuffles laid down and Siria rested her head on his stomach.  
“To you, finding stuff out on your own may be fun, but it isn’t to me. I don’t want to find it on my own. I want to find it out together. You used to bring me all the answers and, even though you knew them, you’d act really interested as I learned them myself…” Siria gave a hearty sigh.  
“You don’t have to pretend to be interested, but I don’t like learning things on my own.” She took a sharp breath as the fluffy, shaggy fur beneath her turned to a smooth, fine tailored jacket. Sirius crossed his arms and placed them beneath his head.  
“After learning about Regulus… I’d have to agree with you. You don’t have to learn on your own. If I know, I should be happy to help you learn and, if I don’t, then I hope we can learn together.”  
Siria linked her fingers over her stomach. She nodded and stared at her fingers. The air was so cold, she could see her breath escape her. Sirius, who was completely in the snow, said nothing. Not a word about how he had misunderstood Regulus, how Siria had lost, or about how she’d produced a Patronus. They laid in the cold, quiet snow until they were almost too cold to move.  
Sirius dusted the snow off the back of Siria’s Quidditch robes with his wand before doing the same to himself. He patted her messy, damp hair with a smirk. She opened her arms and looked up at him. They each pulled the other into a hug.  
“I’m sorry I was mad!” She exclaimed. He rubbed the back of her head.  
“Oh, Siria” he soothed. “Don’t ever be sorry for how you feel— no matter how you feel. If you’re mad, be mad. If you’re sad, be sad. They’re your feelings and there is never a wrong way to feel.”  
“Urh!” She groaned and nestled her head into his chest. “You swallowed a parenting book!”  
“Excuse me,” Sirius rolled his eyes, “I swallowed several!”  
He laughed and hugged her tighter, so he could mess up the back of her hair without her escaping. She shouted and tried to knock his hands away. Ultimately, she dropped to knees to slide from his grasp. Siria scooped up a handful of snow, patted it, and chucked it at him. He laughed and collected a larger handful. “It’s on.” Sirius warned her. They threw snowballs until Sirius ended it, by picking her up around the waist and tossing them both into a pile of fresh powdery snow. She was still laughing when he helped her up.  
“Really though, be mad if that’s how you feel. As long as you’re not getting into fights because you’re upset, do what you need to do to let it out.” Sirius told her.  
“What if I’m so mad, I want to run into battle with a bed sheet?” Siria asked with her eyebrow raised.  
“At least select something more tasteful than a bed sheet— I hear you’ve got someone with great taste on your side.” He raised his head in a smug tilt. Siria tsked him.  
“About that, I want the details— from you.”  
“Another time.” He tapped her watch. “I’ll be keeping an eye here from now on. Fudge thinks I’m back at my Muggle job, since we haven’t made progress on Peter, but Snuffles” he winked at her “will be staying with Hagrid. After what happened on Christmas, which I learned from Ron, mind you, I think he’s nearby.”  
“You do realise I’m going to practically live at Hagrid’s, right?” Siria asked.  
“I certainly hope you’ll visit, but maybe still live at the castle.”

February's first Sunday’s study group had another batch of new arrivals. Hermione opened the door then looked apologetically at Siria. Siria pushed the door open further and saw: Cedric Diggory, Hufflepuff Seeker and Captain, having an argument with Oliver Wood. Travers and Warrington were in a corner with Daphne, a new Slytherin addition, and Lily Moon at the table closest to them. Astoria and Colin were at the table behind them, playing with the rabbits they were undoubtedly supposed to be turning into slippers.  
Lavender and Parvati were trying to read Fay’s friend, Mandy Brocklehurst’s palm, but Luna Lovegood was countering everything they said with her magazine’s article. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were looking over Ernie MacMillan's Muggle Studies essay. Terry Boot was at the front, right most table with what looked like half their Arithmancy class. Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones were spread out over a table with their homework behind Terry Boot’s.  
Wood and Cedric Diggory were arguing so close to the door that there was no way to get near any of the various people inside without either crab walking along the wall or walking into their argument. The door creaked open wider and Hermione, Ron, and Siria could see that the entire Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Quidditch teams were there as well. Professor McGonagall had stopped chaperoning them outside of opening the classroom and shooing them out.  
“THERE!” Wood shouted and gestured to Siria. “You’re late!” He told her.  
“I can’t be late— we don’t have an official start.” Siria defended. Even Neville had stopped shouting about being late. People came when they wanted, which was anywhere from first thing in the morning to half an hour before Professor McGonagall came to kick them out.  
“It’s your club, tell him he has to leave!” Wood told her and gestured, with a short wave of his arm at Diggory.  
“Um,” Siria clicked her tongue and placed her bag on her desk. “It’s not a club, it’s a study group, and no one has to leave.” Hermione shot Siria a look and she quickly added “unless they’re being disruptive to the studying.”  
Wood placed his hand on Siria’s shoulder. He looked her square in the face. “Look, Potter, I’ve been telling you this for awhile, but they aren’t here to learn— none of them are. It’s about—”  
“Wood, I swear, if you say ‘Quidditch’, I will jinx you.” She pulled her Potions book out of her bag. “If you aren’t here to study— you can leave.”  
“Potter—” Siria slammed the book, as hard and loud as she could.  
The heads of those that weren’t listening before turned to listen now. Siria’s green eyes glared at Wood. She had half a mind to lift the book off the desk just to hit him with it, but Sirius had just spoken with her about fighting yesterday.  
“I love Quidditch!” Siria shouted at him. “I know I let you down and I’ll practice harder than ever, but don’t you dare make this about Quidditch— you, you Quaffle-Head!”  
“Potter! It isn’t just about Quidditch” Wood gestured wordlessly to the Slytherins. Siria crossed her arms and raised her head.  
“Then what’s it about, Wood?” She asked through gritted teeth. “Educate me, my dear senior. As you’ve the time to talk Quidditch from first breath to last, you’re no doubt ready to take your N.E.W.T.s or else have helped everyone here with the questions you can answer.”  
With a few jerks of his head, Wood motioned for Siria to go into the hall. She shook her head and, rather forcefully, sat down in the chair beside her. Siria crossed her arms and continued to glare at Wood. He looked around the room. “Fine, Potter, but you better give practice a hundred and ten percent!”  
“Count on it!” She shouted as he turned away. Siria slammed her book open, placed her elbow on the desk and threw a curtain of her hair between her face the rest of the room.  
Not even fifteen minutes passed before Astoria brought one of the rabbits over. She poked the rabbit’s head over the top of the desk. “Siria!” She sang in a soft voice, waving the rabbit’s small, white paw. “Lop that frown around!” Astoria peered over the top of the desk. She had a large smile and a merry blush in her cheeks. “Get it?” She asked in her own voice. “It’s lop, like flop, but” she pointed to the rabbit’s ear “like the bunny’s ears.” Siria smirked and let out a chuckle.  
“Yeah.” She nodded and pet the rabbit’s forehead. “Thank you, Astoria.” Astoria positively beamed at Siria, as Colin often did, before she hurried back to her table.  
Hermione excused herself from the Arithmancy table and leaned onto Siria’s. “The thing I needed to use your trunk for is there. I’ll take the note off, once it’s out. Okay?” She asked.  
“Yeah.” Siria told her.  
“Siria, is that a regular notebook?”  
“And this is a pen” Siria said and raised the Muggle writing tool. “Look, I ought to be able to outline my work however I want. I’m tired of a quill & ink bottle, ‘Mione. Besides, this one’s so little I can carry it in my pocket and check my notes whenever.” Hermione looked from Siria’s book to her pocket sized notebook.  
“Well, I suppose, as long as you’re turning your work in the proper way…” Hermione clicked her tongue, but returned to the Arithmancy table.  
Ron sat down beside Siria the moment Hermione turned away. He watched her sit back down. “I’ve been wondering for awhile, but Ernie Macmillan said that Hermione’s been to every Muggle Studies class (B3,244) ” He told her. Siria raised an eyebrow. “Half of them are the same time as Divination and she hasn’t missed one of those either! They’re both at the same time as Arithmancy and Terry Boot says she’s been to every class, and Lily Moon said Hermione’s at every Ancient Runes class, but it happens when Care of Magical Creatures does and she’s been to all of those. How do you suppose she’s doing it?”  
“I don’t know,” Siria shrugged, “Magic?”  
“What kind of magic lets you be in two places?” Ron asked.  
Siria lifted her wand off her desk, gave a quick, sharp flick and called “Gemino!” which doubled her notebook. She slid the copy to Ron. “That doesn’t work on people!” He exclaimed.  
“Maybe there’s something that does— look, rather than asking how Hermione is making it to all her class, ask how we’re going to train to flatten Ravenclaw!” Siria snapped and pulled the second notebook back toward herself. Just as she couldn’t focus on the magical properties of Chizpurfle fangs, Ron couldn’t focus on any subject.

February brought Slytherin’s match against Ravenclaw, where Slytherin won by a full one hundred fifty points. Gryffindor was to face Ravenclaw the following Saturday, but people were still talking about Gryffindor’s loss to Hufflepuff. It was as if they had forgotten that Hufflepuff had beat Slytherin as well.  
Cedric Diggory of the Hufflepuff team had also not let go of Gryffindor’s loss. At Sunday’s study group he apologized to Siria, again. She had hoped that sitting in between Travers and Warrington would scare him away, but Cedric came with his head held high. He even moved Astoria and Colin onto conjuring butterflies, which he insisted on showing Siria when he learned she didn’t know how yet.  
Monday afternoon, on the way to Care of Magical Creatures, Siria found herself knocked to the ground. Before she saw who had fallen over her, she heard “Cheer up your girlfriend!” and “Give her a kiss!” A group of Slytherin sixth years had pushed Draco Malfoy, of all people, into her. She was about to push him off when she remembered being told that Travers’s cousin was being teased of liking Siria. How anyone could think he liked her, after the sunt he pulled during her match against Hufflepuff was beyond her.  
Though she still wanted to push him off her or otherwise refute their claim of “girlfriend” with disgust, it would make him look worse. As Siria screwed up her face, the way she’d seen Dudley do at least a hundred times, she convinced herself that she owed him this: he had tried to save her life. Dramatically, she let out a large, mournful gasp. “He turned me down!” She shouted while she and Malfoy rose to their feet. With her face so screwed up it looked like she was fighting back tears, she swept the few items that had fallen from her bag into her arms. Then, Siria turned face to the Slytherins “JERKS!” she barked before running toward Hagrid’s hut.  
Siria let her things drop into her bag and wiped her face with her sleeve. If that didn’t shut them up, it would be Malfoy’s job to solve his own problems. Hermione and Ron rushed to Siria’s side. “What was that?” Ron shouted.  
“I don’t actually like him!” Siria exclaimed and rolled her eyes so hard she rolled her head. “It’s me repaying him for trying to save me.”  
“You could have been fine.” Ron told her, as he’d insisted before.  
“Or I could have died— thanks to Malfoy, we’ll never know.” Siria looked to the large, fluffy black dog that was charging toward them. “Snuffles!” She grinned and dropped to her knees to pet him. “Be chill” she whispered into his ear. “I don’t like Malfoy, but…”

After a week of back breaking, long, and exhausting Quidditch practices, the Gryffindor team stood on the field, ready to face Ravenclaw.  
(Book: B3, 258-261 The Quidditch match starts. Cho Chang tails Siria and blocks Siria’s path to the Snitch, when she realizes Siria’s broom can’t be beat. Lee Jordan’s commentary is more about Siria’s Firebolt than what’s happening in the game.)

Cho Chang dove back into Siria’s path to the Snitch, again. Siria dove under her, but, when she rose on the other side of Cho, Siria had lost the Snitch. “SIRIA, NOW’S NOT THE TIME TO BE A LADY!” Wood roared, “KNOCK HER OFF HER BROOM!” (B3, 261). Siria continued to rise up and Cho followed behind her. When she was high enough above the field, Siria steadied and her broom to a hover. Cho hung beside her.   
“Just going to follow me around, then?” Siria asked as she scanned for the Snitch. Cho smiled at her. Lee Jordan announced “Gryffindor scores! Sixty to forty!” If she got the Snitch now, they’d win with two hundred ten points and they would be one Snitch away from catching up with Hufflepuff, but still behind Ravenclaw. She watched Katie Bell rocket past a Ravenclaw Chaser and pelt the ball toward the goal.  
“Gryffindor scores! Seventy to forty!” Lee Jordan called. Siria placed the nail of her thumb between her teeth. If Ravenclaw stayed at forty points, then they would only have two hundred thirty points toward the cup. Hufflepuff had three hundred sixty points, so she would just need to catch the Snitch in their rematch against Slytherin and Wood would have to block even better than he was today. Siria cocked her head.  
From up here she could see the beautiful, dark hair of Travers and the golden Snitch. She dove down, toward the stands, Cho on her tail. Siria spun to Cho’s left side, keeping herself facing Travers, but looking to her own left. Then, thirty feet from Travers and the collection of Slytherin students in the stands, Siria jerked her broom so harshly to the left, she had to lean right to stay on. Siria saw the Snitch pull up and followed suit. She pulled the Firebolt up and raised one hand to reach for the Snitch. Finally, her fingers closed around the familiar cold, fluttering ball.  
The roar of the crowd was so loud that it was deafening. Wood nearly tackled Siria out of the air in his excitement. “That’s my Seeker!”  
(Book: B3, 264 The Gryffindors have a party. Fred & George get some sweets from Honeydukes “thanks to Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.”)


	14. Rumors, Repercussions, & Discussions

**Rumors, Repercussions, & Discussions**   


March came and ended the snow, but had not ended the rumors that were continuing to bloom throughout the castle. Siria’s declaration that she had been rejected by Draco Malfoy had spiraled into endless rumors about how she had asked him, why he had rejected her, and they seemed to grow more ludicrous by the day. Colin Creevey was the intent on defending Siria to his last breath, which mostly consisted of him coming up to her at every meal and between each of her classes and saying “You didn’t really” and asking with what rumor he had heard “did you?” and telling her “I knew it!” Before running off to tell everyone else.  
Hermione and Ron were regularly harassed by the rumors as well, but no one seemed to want to ask Siria herself. On Thursday morning, Ron came into the Great Hall with his hair and clothes so disheveled, it looked as though he had been dogpiled. He thudded beside Siria and glared at her. “Next time, could you just not?” was all he said.  
“If I issue a retraction now, it’ll just get worse” Siria told him.  
“How do you know?” asked Ron.  
Siria gave a long, heavy sigh as she rolled a sausage along her plate. She knew because she’d done so before. Marge had accused Siria of countless things: too lanky, too slow, that her hair was too wild, and anything else she could think to criticize. When Siria agreed, Marge would glare and continue onward, but usually got bored of Siria agreeing with her and the conversation would fall onto how great Dudley was. It was whenever Siria tried to argue with Marge that things got worse. There was no point trying to change their minds. It had already been a month, any day now, something else would happen to distract them.  
Sunday morning, Siria arrived first to Professor McGonagall’s classroom. Ron had not even woken up. Hermione was gone and there was a note of “Sorry” taped to Siria’s trunk, which was Hermione’s way of saying she was using it. Professor McGonagall would only stop by to shoo them out or else set up someone that had failed to turn in their homework with Siria to watch them.  
The Great Hall had been too lively for her taste and she felt like everyone was talking about her. She could only stomach toast and the occasional banana lately. She glared at the banana, as if it were the cause of the rumors, but sighed, peeled, and ate it.  
To her surprise, the group of Slytherin students were the first to arrive. Astoria led them, bright eyed and bushy tailed as usual. “Siria!” She cheered and immediately took the seat beside her. “I was hoping to talk with you!” There was something about Astoria’s endless smile that made Siria smile back. It felt genuine and she seemed to radiate joy.  
“What’s up?” Siria asked her. Astoria looked into Siria’s green eyes. Her gaze was oddly intense, like she wanted to convey so much more than she was going to say.  
“I think you’re really brave for confessing to Draco like that.” said Astoria. Siria repressed a groan, which ended up coming out as an odd wheezing sound from her throat. “Really!” Astoria’s eyes seemed to glitter with her sincerity. “You make me feel welcome here.”  
“For liking Malfoy?” Siria asked. Astoria nodded.  
“I even brought some friends today,” She pointed to two, small first year Slytherin girls and a second year Slytherin boy. “They kept telling me there was no way you actually wanted us at your study group— but, with how romantic your confession was” a blush filled Astoria’s cheeks and she let out a dreamy sigh. “There’s no way House matters to you.”  
The only words Siria could find were “Oh, yeah.” Part of her was a little curious what Astoria had heard about a confession that didn’t happen, but didn’t know how to ask. It also terrified her that the rumors of her being rejected by Malfoy were not only alive and well, but seemed to be growing stronger. Lavender and Parvati spent a good half hour of every night telling Siria all the new rumors they had heard about her confession and asking if any were true, since the rumors had started over a month ago. She couldn’t remember feeling any were particularly romantic or realistic.  
Astoria pulled Siria over to her friends and the box of mice. Siria showed them a few times before leaving Astoria to watch over the other three. When she sat down, Travers and Warrington boxed her in. “We didn’t tell you,” Travers told Siria, locking eyes. “But Flint’s talking about putting a mark on you. We’ll try and warn you, but this is our last session for a bit.” She patted Siria’s shoulder and Siria thanked them.  
Travers rose just as Wood and Diggory were entering. “Hey!” Wood barked.  
“Wood,” Diggory soothed.  
“Come off it, Wood.” Travers gave Siria’s hair a tussle. “We were asking Potter if she had Potion questions— unless you’re suddenly a pro?” Wood glared at them and looked to Siria.  
“It’s cool.” Siria assured him. Warrington and Travers went over to Astoria. Wood placed himself beside Siria, with Diggory on her other side.  
“Potter, I just wanted to apologize again.” Diggory began.  
“You’re totally fine.” Siria nodded. She had heard him and Wood argue that they should have a rematch, but Madam Hooch and Professors McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Snape could only agree that Gryffindor would receive a penalty shot for their match against Slytherin and that Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Flint wouldn’t be allowed to Hogsmeade for the rest of the year. More than feeling this was unfair, bad about her loss, or excited for her victory, Siria was worried about how to tell Wood that Marcus Flint may have it out for her.

Each Quidditch practice, Snuffles met Colin, Siria, Madam Hooch and the Gryffindor team outside the castle. He trotted with them and sat in the stands, beside Colin until the end of practice when they would walk back together. Snuffles and Siria would sit on the steps of Hogwarts and she would tell him about her day. Sometimes, Crookshanks would come down from Gryffindor Tower and sit in Siria’s lap to be pet.  
(Book: B3, 295-302 Hermione storms out of Divination, once they’ve moved onto crystal balls because Trelawney says the Grim is in Siria’s crystal ball. Hermione leaving brings one of Trelawney's predictions true. The Easter holidays are full of homework.)  
Hermione had left the note of “Sorry” on Siria’s trunk all the Easter holiday, which resulted in Siria storing her Firebolt in Hermione’s trunk any moment it was not being ridden.  
The Easter holiday brought more than warmer weather and mountains of homework; it brought Siria’s warning. Thursday, on her way to see Sirius, Siria was knocked to the ground by a firm and sturdy build. Instinctively, she glared at them and saw it was Warrington. “Watch it, Potter.” He told her. His gaze was intense and full of purpose. She gave the slightest nod of her head, which she tried to make look like a wince by squeezing her eyes shut. Warrington stalked off with some other Slytherins and Siria knew tensions were about to rise.  
Snuffles, Fang, and Crookshanks met her outside the entrance hall. Crookshanks had a rather large rat in his mouth, but looked a tad disappointed. “Hermione isn’t going to want a rat— even if you caught a bigger one” Siria told him and went to Hagrid’s hut together. Inside, Snuffles became Sirius. “What do you mean Flint marked you?” He cried out.  
“Oh, he didn’t pee or anything—” Siria began.  
“I—” Sirius let out a throaty groan that sounded very doglike. Even Fang seemed to think so because the coward ran into the corner of the cabin furthest from Sirius. After he sighed, Sirius crossed an arm over his chest and placed his other hand to his lips in a loose fist.  
“If Flin’s marked Siria then we ought ter tell Dumbledore!” Hagrid told them.  
“No!” Siria and Sirius agreed.  
“If we tell Dumbledore, Snape’s going to fight it and ask for my proof and I can’t give up Warrington or, if it happens again, it’ll hit me blind!” Siria told him. She sighed and sat at the table.  
“Flint could also get even more underhanded if he knows you’re on to him.” Sirius gave another growl. Under his breath he grumbled “if only I could be there.”  
“Sirius, you already spend more time at Hogwarts than any parent— ever!” Siria told him.  
“The other parents visit” Sirius defended.  
“No, they don’” Hagrid shook his head and gave Fang a hearty pat.  
It seemed to genuinely surprise Sirius that he was the only parent to visit. He derailed them to insist that Hagrid and Siria were simply missing the other parents’ visits. Hagrid and Siria gave up arguing and their act of quitting was what convinced Sirius that he was wrong. “Well, if anyone else had a child so prone to danger, they’d visit too” Sirius settled.  
Hagrid looked from Siria to Sirius and rose to his feet. “Come ‘ere, Fang.” He called. “Got ter get ‘im some air.” Hagrid told them and he exited his hut with large basset hound. Sirius looked nervously to Siria and, rather than sitting beside her, he paced the small space of the hut. Siria’s heart seemed to explode in her chest. She didn’t feel like she’d done anything to be in trouble for. If anything, Siria had done the opposite of things that would get her into trouble.  
When Fred and George had given Siria the Marauder’s Map to escape Hogwarts, she had turned it over to Sirius, even if she had mostly done it because she was upset that he hadn’t told her. She’d attended every Sunday study group, except the one right after her fall. Despite the mountain of homework she’d gotten for the holidays, Siria had already completed most of hers.  
As Hermione had the Invisibility Cloak, Siria hadn’t snuck out of Gryffindor Tower once this year. She only came to see Sirius when he was waiting for her at the entrance hall. Though mostly due to Hermione sliding the food onto Siria’s plate, she had been eating a variety of fruits and veggies— even celery and Siria hated celery; it was like eating a stick of weird, watery, dental floss.  
The more she thought about it, the more Siria started to feel like maybe she hadn’t washed the dishes or taken out the trash or scrubbed the baseboards or dusted the server, but she didn’t need to do any of those things here. She couldn’t have forgotten to do her chores; she didn’t have any chores to do.  
“Sirius,” Siria broke the silence, “you’re giving me the ‘I forgot a chore’ feeling and it’s making feel like I’m going to be sick!” Sirius knelt beside her chair.  
“The what?” He asked in an even tone.  
“The” she waved her fingers as if to fan herself, “the ‘I forgot a chore’ feeling! When I forgot to do something, it would make my stomach sink and my— my brain would just— it would— I don’t know, but I— I can only think about what I forgot and I— I don’t want to be in trouble.”  
“Oh, Siria,” he gave a soft sigh that matched the gentle affection in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to give you the ‘I forgot a chore’ feeling. I had the ‘I forgot a chore’ feeling and was wondering how to get past it.”  
“You get it too?” Siria asked. Sirius nodded.  
“I think everyone gets it sometimes, but it’s a little different for them. Hermione probably gets the ‘I forgot my homework’ feeling, and I get the ‘there are too many’ feeling.” He told her. “When you have that feeling, even when you know you did the chore, it’s just a little ‘anxiety’. It’s perfectly normal”  
“For once, knowing what it’s called doesn’t make me feel better about it.” She confessed. Sirius extended his hand and she placed her small fingers over his.  
“Siria Potter, you did not forget a chore. You’re at Hogwarts, where you don’t even have to make your bed.” Sirius stroked the back of Siria’s hand with his thumb and it was strangely calming for her. “I’m very sorry to have made you anxious.”  
“But why were you anxious?” Siria whispered.  
“Well,” Sirius clicked his tongue in a manner of selecting his words. “You would still have to spend a week at the Dursleys’ every year, Dumbledore has assured me there’s no way around it…” He gave a large, steady exhale as if his nerves would leave him with his breath.  
“Do you remember, when I told you about Peter and you said that the way you saw it…” Sirius pulled his gaze from Siria’s hand to her bright, green eyes. “You saw it as your third parent lived.” Siria could only give a quick, short nod in reply. She was trembling. As if her eyes were the shutter of camera, she blinked and hoped to take in the expression of sincerity on his face. If what she hoped was happening was happening, Siria wanted to remember this feeling for the rest of her life.  
“You can take all the time you need,” Sirius told her. His voice higher than usual, but he held his head in the same elegant manner of magical royalty he usually did. “But, would you consider allowing me to adopt you” Before Sirius had the last word out, Siria had dove out of her chair and tackled him in an attempt to hug him.   
“Yes!” She cried with a river of tears pouring from her eyes. “Yes!” She shouted again.

Their faces red and blotchy from their tears of joy, they walked back toward the castle. On their way, Crookshanks caught a new rat and seemed immediately dissatisfied it. “I didn’t even know there were rats in Hogwarts.” Siria confessed. She figured there would be a magical solution for them.  
“Crookshanks is helping me weed them out.” Sirius swept up Hermione’s large, bowlegged cat and rubbed behind an ear. “You know, the weather has been clearing up. We might get a clear full moon soon.”  
“I hope so. I’m getting tired of having to put in a new one each month. It makes it a lot harder to enjoy dessert.” She felt like someone had done an overpowered Cheering Charm on her. Even though she complained about the mandrake leaf, she had a large smile glued to her face.  
What did it matter if Marcus Flint was out to sabotage her? Sirius wanted to adopt her. He was going to adopt her. Flint was an ant beneath her boot. Siria rushed to tell Ron and Hermione. Ron was in the common room and hugged Siria, who cried more. No one had seen Hermione, but Lavender told her there was a note on Siria’s trunk. Siria rushed back to her dorm room so quickly, it looked as there were two Hermiones beside Siria’s trunk. She blinked and the second one was gone while the first one shoved something down the front of her robes. At this point, Siria was convinced she was so happy, she was seeing double.


	15. The Quidditch Final

**The Quidditch Final**   


(Book: B3, 301-302 no one can remember a more charged pre-match atmosphere. Things are so bad a Gryffindor 4th year & Slytherin 6th year end up in the Hospital Wing w/leeks growing from their ears. Wood has the whole of Gryffindor House protecting Siria from any attempt the Slytherins may make. On the night before the match, no one can focus and everyone is trying to relax. Hermione & Ron try to convince Siria that she’ll be fine)  
It came as a relief when Wood suddenly stood up and yelled “Team! Bed!” (B3, 302). Wood had a small army of Gryffindor seventh, sixth, and fifth years escort Siria down to the Hospital Wing. Snuffles was already waiting for her and Madam Pomfrey had the potion for Dreamless Sleep ready as well. “You’re going to do great!” Lee Jordan told her. He patted Siria’s shoulder. “See you in the morning.”  
After a deep, calming breath, Siria chugged down the potion. She, Madam Pomfrey, and Snuffles were the only ones in the Hospital Wing that night. It didn’t feel eerie. It felt calming. The bit of moonlight that crept in felt like the chandelier from her room. Her eyes fluttered to a close and Siria fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
Hermione and Ron were with the battalion of fellow Gryffindors that came to get Siria in the morning. She felt as bright eyed as Astoria Greengrass usually appeared.  
(Book: B3, 304-306 The Gryffindor team enters the Great Hall to a roar of applause. They have breakfast & go down to the field early. Flint has changed out some players for size, rather than skill. Madam Hooch has them kick off)  
Siria rocketed above the rest of the field. She watched Angelina score their penalty shot for Flint and Malfoy’s fake dementor stunt. Malfoy hovered beside her, which made watching him easier. They needed to be at least forty points before she caught the Snitch or Gryffindor would win the match, but lose the Cup.  
“Thanks to your little stunt, I’ve been more popular than ever,” Malfoy sneered as they circled the field. She wanted to turn and circle the other way, but needed to block him if he saw the Snitch. “Everyone’s hoping to get the one they think you rejected,” his voice was full of contempt.  
“I’d have thought you’d be happy— Mr. Popular.” Siria nodded at the sound of thirty to zero, Gryffindor’s lead.  
“Who’d want to be popular because of you?” He clicked his tongue. Siria saw the Snitch glittering by the crowd of Slytherin students. She dove, as if she’d spotted it in the middle of the field. Malfoy followed on her tail.   
(Book: B3, 308- 309 Siria is nearly hit by a Bludger from Slytherin Beater, Derrick)  
She dipped into a deeper dive, missing the second Bludger, sent at her by Bole. They were closing in on her. Siria jerked her broom and flipped herself over to change direction a moment before they closed on her. She swerved herself back up and caught the sight of the two colliding.  
Over the magical megaphone, Lee Jordan told the Slytherin Beaters “Too bad, boys! You’ll need to get up earlier than that to beat a Firebolt! (B3, 309). She allowed herself a quick smirk and glance to the crowd. In the stands, beside Hermione and Ron were Hagrid and Snuffles. Though she knew he may not see it, Siria waved. Several hands in the stands waved back to her.  
Malfoy had taken up flying in small circles around center field. Siria flew up just below him, which made him drop to her height. “Not that I care,” Malfoy prefaced, “but why’d you do it?”  
“What?” Siria asked as she continued to scan the field.  
“Why’d you say that?” He asked. She almost asked “what” again until she realized there was really only one thing he would ask about when no one else could hear. Siria sighed and rolled her eyes. If he didn’t care, what did it matter?  
“You’re at your best when you’re strutting around the school like you own it. I’d rather have you be an obnoxious prat than pushed into me trying to keep your head down or pulling petty pranks, like the dementor stunt.” She at least hoped that Malfoy wouldn’t have tried a stunt like that, if people hadn’t been teasing him for saving her. “I thought you were more clever than that.”  
(Book: B3, 309 it’s the dirtiest game of Quidditch she’s ever seen. The Slytherin Beaters both attack Wood and there are penalties for it.)

Lee Jordan’s voice carried the score of sixty to ten. She could stand to be serious now. Even if Slytherin pulled into the lead, if she caught the Snitch, Gryffindor would have the Quidditch Cup for the first time in seven years. It felt as if all the eyes in the crowd were watching the circling Seekers. She tilted her head up, took her usual deep, swelling breath and felt the confidence and focus fill her.  
Her almond, green eyes opened onto the clear, blue sky and Siria saw the glittering, golden orb some feet above them. She yanked the Firebolt’s handle and put on a huge burst of speed (B3, 310). The wind was roaring in her ears and she stretched out her hand (B3, 310). Malfoy was on her tail, but not close enough to reach. Siria threw her arm out and swept the Snitch from the air.  
(Book: B3, 312-313 They’ve won the match, won the cup, Wood is practically blinded by his tears, and Siria feels she may have been able to produce the world’s best Patronus)

All of Gryffindor House seemed to crowd the common room that night in a party that Percy could not silence. Colin, Fred, and George had gotten a small feast from the kitchens. There was a light smoke that hung around the celebration from all of the Filibuster Fireworks set off. People patted the team members so often that some of them developed a stinging in their shoulders. They continued to eat, laugh, and light fireworks until two in the morning, when Professor McGonagall came to silence them herself.  
Morning came all too early after sleep for Siria. Fay pulled the comforter off the bed, with Siria tangled inside it. She thudded to the floor and pulled the comforter over her head. “We’ve got the study group— Siria,” Hermione called. Siria let out a groan in reply. Lavender whacked Siria with a pillow.  
“Don’t make me read your palm!” Lavender sang at her.  
“Come on, Siria” Parvati called while she tugged on the comforter.  
“We let you sleep in, but we’ll drag you down the stairs like this.” said Fay. Though she didn’t feel like she had slept in at all, Siria knew Fay would drag her down the stairs. She yanked the comforter from Parvati and Fay, but headed to breakfast with them.  
Travers and Warrington were back with the study group and looked after Colin, Astoria, and Astoria’s friends. Astoria rushed to pull Siria to them, while the other girls were siphoned off by other friends or, in Hermione’s case, people desperate for her help. Colin and Astoria showed Siria their slippers, which had been Transfigured from rabbits. Siria moved them to turning birds into goblets. She had to smile at them because the two were so animated and excited.  
No sooner had she finished setting them up, Travers and Warrington sat her down to make sure her potions work was completed. Warrington had kept his old notes and passed them onto Siria. They had every instruction Snape had written on the board from “stir the cauldron three and a half times clockwise then half a stir counterclockwise” to the recommended size she should cut her roots.  
“See you, kiddo!” Travers told Siria and ruffled her already untidy hair. Siria could only wave and smile meekly at them as they left. Daphne Greengrass swept into the seat beside Siria. She said nothing, kept her gaze away, but moved her chair closer. “Yes?” Siria asked cautiously.  
“I know you like Travers.” Daphne told her as flatly as commenting that the weather was fair. An uncontrollable, nervous smile ran across Siria’s face.  
“That’s a good one,” she replied, stiffly. Daphne sighed.  
“I’m not going to out you, Potter.” said Daphne.  
Siria scratched the back of her neck and gave a quick glance around the room. Ron’s back was to her, Hermione was drowning in people, and Astoria and Colin were busy trying to coax their birds off a shelf. Luna Lovegood was talking with Ginny and everyone else seemed just as evenly distracted. She would have been surprised if anyone even noticed that Daphne had walked across the room to sit beside her.  
“So,” Siria clicked her tongue and looked to her left, away from Daphne, “if I did like her, and you aren’t going to out me, what are you going to do?”  
“I just want you to know you aren’t alone.” Daphne looked to her own right.  
“Oh.” Siria nodded. “Cool,” she continued to nod “cool.” Siria cleared her throat and shifted a little. She hunched in her chair and stared at her hands. “Could I ask what gave me away?” She felt the blush pour into her cheeks.  
“Would you like everything or just the most obvious?” Daphne asked in the same flat tone. Siria exhaled a quiet groan, as if wincing from soreness. “Very well,” Daphne gave a small smile. “You go from being your occasionally awkward, usually a bit charming self to being quiet and painfully awkward. You scratch the back of your neck or your ear. You stare at her from across the Great Hall and blush like an idiot. Also, you write with your left hand.”  
Siria dropped the pen in her left hand and reflexively held her right elbow. “My arm got broken, so I just do it sometimes.” She hadn’t even noticed that she still used her left hand. Daphne looked from her right to Siria’s arm. “Muggles don’t have magic, so it got put in a cast.” Siria explained. “It was stuck broken until it healed on its own.”  
“Can they do that?” Daphne asked.  
“Yeah. It took about six months before I had it all healed, though.” She sighed. Even once the cast was off, she had kept using her left arm until Marge fed Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia a story about how left handed people only happened when one twin ate the other in the womb. Marge was full of ways to twist anything Siria did into something that contributed to how “rotten” Siria was on the inside.  
“That’s unfortunate.” Daphne told her in a way of being empathetic. She raised her hand to pat Siria’s arm, but pulled back. “It looks fine now.”  
“Yeah.” Siria smiled at her. “Wait!” she looked to Daphne, “you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”  
“Yes.” Daphne sighed with a smile.  
“Not about the Travers thing, but the Malfoy thing— ‘cause it really meant a lot to Astoria that I confessed to him.” said Siria.  
“I know it did— both your secrets are safe with me. If you tell anyone I’m gay,” Daphne slid a finger across her neck “we’ll see how well you absorbed Warrington’s notes on antidotes.” A small, slightly repressed groan escaped Siria’s throat.

Finals drew ever closer. Hermione seemed to have glued the “Sorry” note to Siria’s trunk. She also seemed to be behind Ron and Siria then gone more often than before. Her bag was always falling apart at the seams, but Professor Lupin patched it up each Defense Against the Dark Arts class. While Hermione seemed to be completing all her assignments and getting a fair amount of sleep, she also seemed to get closer to a break down the closer finals approached. Her hair was steadily growing to almost as untidy as Siria’s and she was almost always out of breath.  
Ron and Siria had taken to using the Sunday study group as an excuse to actually study. They spent hours on their homework every night and Sundays on practicing. Professor McGonagall gave them Saturday access to her classroom, but they had to move to the History of Magic classroom when almost everyone in Hermione’s Ancient Runes and Arithmancy classes showed up. Daphne managed to help them some of the Ancient Runes students and Susan Bones helped with Arithmancy, while Hermione got torn from subject to subject. The older students that joined would only help with specific questions. Even Wood, Fred, and George could be seen studying these days.  
Everyone had stopped learning new things to make sure they had the old things down. Hermione was practically certain that Professor Flitwick would test them on Cheering Charms. She was less certain with Professor McGonagall and didn’t know if they would be tested on turning a teapot into a tortoise, the Lapifors spell or Draconifors Spell, which resulted in their study group being full of rabbits, small dragons, and partially Transfigured teapots. Snape had suggested their final might consist of him poisoning one of them to test antidotes. Siria was almost certain she would be the one poisoned, if he got his way.  
After last year showed just how important mandrakes could be, it sounded like Professor Sprout may be including them in the testing material. Hagrid, who was too transparent for his own good, intended to revisit Hippogriffs. He would only have one Hippogriff for the whole class to approach individually. Professor Lupin managed to keep his intentions for the final a secret.  
With all the homework and studying, Siria had gone from seeing Sirius a few times a week to only on Friday evenings, from her last class until lunch. From everything he told her, the rodent problem was growing, but nothing to worry about. She felt that, because her nightmares had finally stopped, he didn’t want to give her new ones about the rat infestation that may be taking over the forest. It was difficult to keep it out of her mind on her way back to Gryffindor Tower, but she’d forget the moment she dove into studying.

(Book: B3, 314-315, 317-319 the weather is nice, but finals are upon them and everyone has too much homework and preparation for their finals. Transfiguration: teapot to tortoise; Charms: Cheering Charms; Potions: Confusing Concoction; History of Magic: variety including witch burnings; etc. DADA is an obstacle course and Hermione rightfully freaks out over the boggart in the trunk, which is Professor McGonagall, telling Hermione she failed everything. Cornelius Fudge is in the entrance hall and greets Siria)  
“What brings you to Hogwarts?” Siria prompted.  
“Oh, yes. I’m here to check on the Pettigrew business. Your godfather should be stopping by, as well.” said Fudge. Siria quickly masked her smirk into a smile.  
“He’ll be adopting me soon,” she beamed at him.  
“Well, congratulations!” Fudge told her. Siria nodded. Sirius stepped into the entrance hall.  
“You’re early!” Sirius told Fudge.  
“Yes, well…” Fudge looked from Sirius to Siria and back, “we’ve business to attend to.” Sirius ruffled Siria’s hair as he past.  
“See you later.” He whispered. She was relieved Fudge’s visit wouldn’t interfere with her seeing him.  
(Book: B3, 321-323 Divination. She sees them one at a time and Siria is last. Siria sits down before the crystal ball and Professor Trelawney asks what she sees, but the heat is making her a little sick. Ron had just made stuff up, so she decides to do the same)  
“There’s— er…” Siria groaned at the crystal ball. There was fog. Fog was all there was. “A dark shape…”  
“What does it resemble?” whispered Professor Trelawney (B3, 323). Siria wanted to tell her “fog!” but chose not to. The only things she could think of Sirius, Travers, and the boggart, but she didn’t want to talk about the first two and the third changed shape.  
“A hooded figure?” Siria asked. She was more worried that wasn’t something that got seen, but she loosely described the dementors.  
“Indeed! My dear, you may well be seeing the outcome of the hunt for Pettigrew. Look closer… what’s near it?” Professor Trelawney whispered (B3, 323).  
“Another hooded figure.”  
“Yes. Are they closing around?”  
“No.” Siria said flatly. She once felt like Peter Pettigrew deserved the Dementor’s Kiss; part of Siria still believed that. Now though, after her nightmares and having to hear her parents’ last words, she felt he deserved to be haunted by his deeds for the rest of his life. Peter Pettigrew didn’t deserve the Dementor’s Kiss; he deserved to go back to a more secure Azkaban that would prevent him from ever escaping.  
“Are you sure?” Professor Trelawney urged her (B3, 323).  
“Yes.” Siria repeated. She stared resolutely at Professor Trelawney “They’re retreating.”  
(Book: B3, 323-324 Professor Trelawney is disappointed Siria didn’t see more. She then makes the prediction that Voldemort will rise again with the aid of his servant, but claims that she did not and that she and Siria must have dozed off. Siria rushes to Gryffindor Tower)


	16. Cat, Rat, and Dog

**Cat, Rat, and Dog**   


“But Siria, she’s full of it!” Hermione exclaimed and rolled her eyes for at least the fourth time. Wordlessly, Siria mouthed to Ron for help. He nodded to Siria.  
“Hermione, let’s at least tell Sirius.” Ron suggested. Siria beamed at him.  
“Yes! ‘Mione— we can just tell Sirius. He can decide what to do with it from there!” said Siria. She looked expectantly at Hermione, who sighed.  
“Oh, fine.” she caved in and the trio headed down to the entrance hall.  
The entrance hall was full of a small amount of students heading for early dinner. Hermione peered outside, onto the grounds and dashed out “Crookshanks!” She called. Ron and Siria ran after her. Siria’s heart sank. The rat problem was far worse than Sirius had led her to believe. Crookshanks was surrounded by rats.  
“Bloody hell,” Ron groaned. He and Siria pulled out their wands. Siria, lost for something else, started turning them into snuffboxes. “It’s not enough!” Ron told her. Siria looked around. Hermione was now circled by rats. She was blasting them left and right, but they pushed her toward the Whomping Willow.  
“Siria!” Ron shouted. Siria looked from Hermione to the Willow then to Ron. “We have to do something!” The Willow’s branches swung and swept around it.  
“I—” Siria pointed her wand at a cluster of rats furthest from Hermione “Bombarda!” As if a small bomb had gone off, they were blasted to bits. Ron looked wide-eyed at Siria then to Hermione and the Willow.  
The Whomping Willow had stopped moving as if stunned. Hermione was gone. The rats fled down the base of the Willow. Ron dove to follow and Siria tackled him to the ground. In the short moment they spent closing in on Hermione and the rats, the Willow seemed to regain itself. They tried to roll from its reach, but the Willow knocked Siria’s wand from her hand. “Lumos!” She called and dove for her illuminated wand.  
“Crookshanks!” Ron called. Crookshanks stood on the trunk of the tree; his large eyes on Ron and Siria. He pressed a knot of the trunk and the Willow paused. “Run!” Ron told Siria, as they sprinted into the base of the Whomping Willow.  
Ron and Siria blasted the rats they past on their way through the twisting, low ceilinged tunnel. “Where are we going?” Ron cried after Crookshanks’s bottlebrush tail.  
“Hermione!” Siria called. They continued to run after the ginger cat, until they were at a small opening. Ron and Siria nodded to each other and burst into the room with their wands at the ready.  
(Book: B3, 337 it’s a small room of the Shrieking Shack and obvious that ghosts haven’t wrecked it)  
From upstairs, red light flashed then green then purple. Ron dashed up first with Siria on his heel. Hermione was pinned down behind a door and firing blindly at a very short man, hardly taller than Siria and already shorter than Ron (B3, 266). Together, Ron and Siria pointed their wands at the short man and shouted “Expelliarmus!” The man froze and his wand shot from his hand. Ron rushed him and knocked him to the ground while Siria grabbed the wand. She placed it in her hand, beside her own and pointed both at the man on the floor.  
“Pettigrew…” Siria’s voice was barely a whisper and seemed to scrape its way out of her throat. The shrunken appearance of a man who had lost a lot of weight in a short time, the grubby skin, the pointed nose, and tiny, watery eyes (B3, 266) left nothing to be questioned. At the end of her wand was the person responsible for her parents’ deaths. Tom Riddle could have searched forever and never found them, if not for Peter Pettigrew. Siria bit back the gasp that escaped her.  
Peter Pettigrew raised his arms in silent surrender. Ron rose to his feet and pointed his wand down at Pettigrew as well. He placed an arm on Siria’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.” Siria’s head seemed to tremble as she shook. “We can bring him up the castle.” Ron tried to reason. Hermione crept from the doorway and tugged on Siria’s arm.  
“Siria, please.” Hermione whispered. Her brown eyes pleaded with Siria, who didn’t look away from Pettigrew.  
“Listen to her,” Pettigrew’s voice was squeaky but raspy, like a broken chew toy.  
“He killed my parents.” Siria’s teeth chattered and her wand shook. She couldn’t cast a spell if she tried, but wanted to more than she ever had. Hermione and Ron exchanged a look.  
“Killing him won’t bring them back.” Ron reminded her.  
“Yes, yes!” Pettigrew urged. Ron glared at him.  
Inside, she knew Ron was right. Siria was painfully aware that Pettigrew’s death wouldn’t bring back James or Lily Potter. She tried to remember the girl who told Professor Trelawney that the dementors fled— that Pettigrew lived. She tried to remind herself that he deserved to spend the rest of his days, rotting in a cell, surrounded by dementors and his worst memories. It was just so tempting to end him. Crookshanks rubbed against the back of her legs and peered up at her. Siria clicked her tongue, but lowered the wands.  
No sooner had her hand stilled, footsteps pounded on the stairs and approached quickly. Siria and Hermione kept their wands on Pettigrew while Ron turned to see who arrived. “Snuffles!” Ron cried in shock. Siria looked over her shoulder to see the large, shaggy black dog turn into Sirius Black, with Remus Lupin behind him. “You’re Snuffles!” Ron exclaimed in disbelief. Sirius ignored him.  
“You DARE approach her!” Sirius shouted at Pettigrew, with his wand drawn.  
“Sirius, Siria is owed an explanation” Remus tried to reason.  
“I know Pettigrew gave them up to Tom!” Siria snapped. She raised her shoulders and head and mirrored Sirius’s posture, down to how his wand made a line toward Pettigrew’s throat. Pettigrew wiped his nose like a rat cleaning its face.  
“But we need to know if he was the one,” Remus looked to Sirius.  
“Or we could just kill him.” Sirius said it so coldly that Hermione and Ron stepped back. Siria looked to Sirius, her wand still at Pettigrew. She placed her free hand over Sirius’s wand.  
“Killing— Killing him won’t— won’t bring back James or Lily. It— it’ll only make— make my dad a murder!” Siria stammered. Her eyes filled with tears and she fought to blink them back.  
“Listen to her, Sirius— listen—” Pettigrew let out a harsh squeak when Remus pointed his wand at him.  
“Silence!” Sirius barked at Pettigrew.  
“Ron, Hermione” Remus jerked his head for them to stand behind him. Ron took hold of Siria’s sleeve. She kept her wand pointed at Pettigrew, but allowed herself to be led behind Remus.  
“The longer you talk, the longer you stay out of Azkaban.” Sirius told Pettigrew, who trembled on the floor.  
“No!” Pettigrew cried and writhed as if in pain on the floor. He clutched his head and cried. “No! No! No! Don’t send me back, Sirius, Remus, please!” Sirius flicked his wand in a circular motion and pale, yellow flashed into Pettigrew. He screamed. Hermione turned her face away.  
“Talk!” Sirius demanded.  
“I— I got out.” Pettigrew told them. Ron looked to Siria in disbelief and mouthed “Really?”  
“We know.” Remus replied in a flat tone. “How?”  
“Bellatrix,” Pettigrew seemed to almost whisper the word at Sirius, who froze. Siria had heard the name before, but couldn’t place it. “She saw you, last year” a twisted grin crossed over Pettigrew’s face. It exposed his blackened teeth. “That dirty hound, Sirius— hound.” Pettigrew broke into a squeaking, raspy laugh. It was more chilling than Tom Riddle’s in the Chamber of Secrets.  
“He’s mad” Ron whispered to Hermione and Siria. Siria could only nod. People told her Azkaban was a terrible place and she had felt first hand how terrible the dementors were. She needed to know why he did it— why Pettigrew would wait twelve years to come after her.  
“You’re a dirty hound, Padfoot and I’m a dirty rat.” Pettigrew’s twisted grin remained in place. His eyes rolled from Sirius to Siria. Sirius stepped over to block Siria from Pettigrew’s view. “The guards though I was gone the moment I transformed— they couldn’t feed on the emotions of a rat.”  
“There were precautions” Sirius growled down at Pettigrew. Pettigrew turned his hands to show his nails or remaining ones. His hands were harsh and calloused with some blackened nails and some torn off.  
“Just small enough for a rat” Pettigrew laughed. Hermione shuddered.  
“And then you swam,” Sirius tsked. He had a scowl on his face that made Pettigrew tremble.  
“What about Halloween?” Remus asked.  
“With the wand from Ollivanders, it was easy. It should have been easy.” Pettigrew wiped his face in the same rat-like manner. “But you taught her, didn’t you?” Pettigrew squeaked.  
“No.” Sirius growled a genuine, dog like growl. Pettigrew squirmed on the floor. “She fought you on her own.”  
“Clever girl— sweet girl, just like James and—” Pettigrew shrieked as another blast of yellow shot from Sirius’s wand.  
“Don’t you dare speak to her!” Sirius barked.  
“Stop!” Hermione screamed. Siria placed her arm on Hermione’s shoulder.  
“It’s enough, Sirius.” Remus told him. “We know how he escaped and that cast the Imperius Curse—” Ron gasped and looked horror struck at Siria. “Peter, why come after Siria?”  
“He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named” Pettigrew whispered the name in his raspy, squeaky voice. “He wants proof— proof of my loyalty.” Siria gasped, appalled.  
“I was a token!” She shouted at him. “If you think I’d prove your loyalty, you’re wrong! I’d—” Remus swept Siria off her feet by lifting her from her armpits. In a grumble, she finished, “I’d beat Tom again.”  
Sirius looked to his daughter-to-be. All the anger in his face was gone. “Siria, you are the only person who has the right to decide.” (B3, 376). She nodded. Remus placed her back down.  
“The James and Lily you’ve described, I—” Siria’s voice cracked, Hermione placed her hand on Siria’s shoulder. “No. I don’t want you two to become murders for this…” she shuddered in place of the word she couldn’t find to describe Peter Pettigrew.  
“Very well,” said Lupin and thin cords shot from his wand; in a moment, Pettigrew was bound and gagged (B3, 376).  
“If you transform, we will kill you” Sirius told Pettigrew (B3, 376). Siria gave a single nod to acknowledge. Pettigrew squirmed on the ground. Sirius summoned up two heavy manacles, which he used to bind Pettigrew to himself and Remus. With Crookshanks at the lead, the six of them headed back through the twisting tunnels toward the Whomping Willow.  
“You know,” Siria dragged along, “You could have told me Peter Pettigrew was an Animagus.”  
“So you could have rat based nightmares on top of it all?” Sirius asked and shook his head. Siria shot a look to Hermione, who looked away.  
“I haven’t had them in awhile.” she defended.  
“I wasn’t about to start them back up.” said Sirius. Siria sighed and returned her focus to the twisted tunnels.  
Half way through, the greasy voice of Snape snapped “What are you doing?”  
“Move aside, Snivellus,” Sirius barked back. “We’re taking Pettigrew to the castle.”  
“Oh, no need to go that far, Black.” Snape smirked. “There are dementors at the ground entrance.”  
“No!” Siria cried from the back of their line. “He’s going to the castle— unless he tries to escape.” She wanted him to pay for his actions, but didn’t know how to be certain he did. All Siria knew was being an empty shell would leave him unable to remember that he was reason James and Lily Potter were dead.  
Sirius placed his hand on Snape’s shoulder and pulled him into a whisper. Snape’s face contorted and he jerked away, but led them back. Crookshanks climbed out first, followed by Snape. To Siria’s surprise, Snape helped pull Hermione, Ron, and herself from the tunnel. Hermione and Ron cast “Lumos” into the darkness. It was another partly cloudy, cool June night. Snape helped Remus pull himself, Pettigrew, and Sirius from the tunnel.  
(Book: B3, 380-382 Remus Lupin transforms into a werewolf, which results in Sirius turning into a dog to fight him off and in Peter Pettigrew turning into a rat.)  
Snape jerked Siria’s arm the moment she stepped to run. “Stupid girl, what can you do for him?” he asked. She raised her other arm to hit him, but Hermione beat her to it. Hermione kicked Snape, square in the back of his right knee and he buckled to the ground. His grip fell from Siria and she bolted toward the yelping, with Hermione and Ron behind her.  
“That was amazing!” Ron shouted as they reached the lakeshore, but they had no more time. Sirius had caught Peter and pinned him to the ground, but at least a hundred dementors were headed for them.  
(Book: B3, 382-385 the dementors overcome them, but Siria sees something chase them off just as she blacks out)


	17. 17 Hermione’s Secret

**Hermione’s Secret**   


Though the world was blurry when Siria opened her eyes, she knew the room well. From the cold that seemed to live in it to how the moonlight visited through cracks in the curtains, she was in the Hospital Wing. She looked to the watch on her wrist; it was already eight o’clock, but Sirius was still at Hogwarts. To her right laid the flaming hair of Ron and to her left, the bushy brown of Hermione. Siria groaned. Her body felt heavy, but she wanted her glasses. Madam Pomfrey tsked as she approached Siria.  
“Honestly, chasing after escaped convicts and dementors, falling from your broom, the hippogriff— and that’s just this year,” Madam Pomfrey reminded her. She handed Siria a chunk of chocolate the size of a dinner plate and proceeded to hand Ron and Hermione a piece as well. “You’re lucky Professor Snape found you all so quickly.” She told them. Siria looked to Ron then Hermione and then around the Hospital Wing.  
“Sirius,” when she tried to stand, Siria fell to the floor, her body weak with fatigue. Madam Pomfrey pulled Siria back onto the bed.  
“Ms. Potter, Mr. Black is fine. He’s just unconscious.” She thrust the piece of chocolate back into Siria’s hand. “Eat!” Over the piece of chocolate, Siria glared, but ate. The moment it touched her lips, she felt a little lighter. Hermione and Ron had both sat up, but looked exhausted. Siria put her glasses on and the blurred outline of Sirius’s face fell into focus. His elegant face looked peaceful and almost as fine as always.  
“A black eye?” Siria hissed. Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue while she braided Hermione’s hair back.  
“And some broken ribs— don’t make that face, they’re healed.” Madam Pomfrey moved onto Siria’s hair. “You’ll want to wash your faces and change for bed.” Siria sighed and put her hands in her pocket. She paused. One hand, very expectantly, closed around a small, pocket notepad and pen. The other closed around a small, crumpled piece of paper. She withdrew the paper and unrolled it.  
There, in Siria’s own handwriting, were the words “Patronus” and “Lake” but she hadn’t written them. Madam Pomfrey pulled the curtains between the girls and Ron. Hermione emptied her pockets. “Hermione?” Ron called from the other side. “Um, do you know something I should?” He asked. Siria looked from the curtain to Hermione, who also held a small crumpled ball of paper.  
The trio placed their pieces together, but they didn’t make any sense. Ron had written “Hermione,” Siria had “Patronus” and “Lake,” while Hermione’s just said “T.T. 2.” Each note written in their own handwriting, ink the same deep, blue ink. Ron and Siria looked to Hermione. She was wide-eyed and very focused on her note.  
“Okay.” Hermione finally said. She reached down the front of her robes and pulled out a very long, very fine gold chain (B3,394). Hermione unlocked the window closest to her head and, without a word, she threw the necklace chain around Ron’s and Siria’s necks. Hermione began to turn the small, sparkling hourglass on the chain twice.   
(Book: B3, 394 Hermione sends them back in time)  
“Siria, what were we doing two hours ago?” Hermione asked. Siria looked to her watch, which now read six o’clock. She looked to Hermione then to Ron and outside.  
“You have a time machine!” Siria hissed through her teeth. She smacked her own forehead. “Of course you do!” How did Hermione get to all her classes when some were at the same time? She wasn’t multiplying herself, she was going back in time to attend the classes. Hermione looked outside the window.  
“We were in the Shrieking Shack.” Hermione told them. “Come on.” She poked her head out of the Hospital Wing and dashed away. Ron looked to Siria then they both chased after her.  
“What is going on?” Ron asked as he ran on the grounds.  
“Hermione’s been using a time machine to attend her classes!” Siria dropped to a jog as she neared Hermione.  
“We’ve got to— hide— in the— forest.” Hermione panted. Siria patted Hermione’s shoulder as the trio settled for a brisk walk.  
“No…” Siria corrected. “We need to hide at the lake.”  
“Seriously,” Ron started, “what is going on?”  
(Book: B3, 395-396, Hermione explains she was given the Time Turner to attend her classes and they have to be careful not to be seen)  
Ron placed his hand on Siria’s shoulder as they hid in the bushes on the other side of the lake from where Sirius would appear at any moment. They had already heard Remus become a werewolf and howl. Ron looked like there was something he wanted to say, but no words came out. He simply patted her shoulder.  
Siria withdrew her holly wand. She knew what she would have to do. Ron had written himself the note of “Hermione” because that was all he needed to know. Hermione had written herself the note of “T.T. 2” so she would turn the Time Turner twice, which would let them go back two hours. Siria’s told her the lake and Patronus because that was why the dementors didn’t kiss any of them. She closed her eyes and knew she needed a happy thought.  
Sirius is going to adopt you. Even if Peter Pettigrew gets away today, even if Tom comes back, even if he does come back stronger than before— you aren’t alone. Siria raised her wand into the chilling air. They were all there now, just across the lake. No matter what comes, you’ll be okay.  
(Book: B3, 411 Siria produces a Patronus Charm in the shape of a buck, which takes down the dementors and returns to her. She realises it’s Prongs)  
Hermione pulled Siria back behind the bushes. Peter Pettigrew seemed to disappear beneath Sirius. Ron took hold of Siria’s other arm, though he looked as ready to jump out of the bushes and attack Pettigrew as she was. “No.” Hermione whispered to them. Siria’s hand trembled on her wand, which she placed in her pocket. She traded it for the notebook and pen, which she passed around. They rushed to themselves and tucked in the torn pieces of the sheet into their past self’s pockets. Siria looked at the face of her unconscious self from an hour ago and wanted to apologize. Not only had she let Peter Pettigrew get away, the self an hour behind would have to do the same.  
They hurried back into the forest and peered through the trees. Snape and Professor Dumbledore rushed to them. The trio watched their past selves be taken back to the castle. Once Snape and Professor Dumbledore were gone, Hermione had them creep along the forest outskirts to the Hospital Wing windows.  
Siria sunk down into the grass and buried her face in her hands. Ron sank down beside her. “You saved us too, you know?” Ron told her.  
“I should’ve let them” Siria whispered through her hands.  
“Naw,” Ron shook his head. “You did the right thing, Siria. Pettigrew may have gotten away today, but you’ll win in the end.” Siria pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head on them. Ron patted her back.  
“We’ve gone.” Hermione whispered and slid the window open. Siria hoisted her leg up and pulled herself inside. Ron was so tall his feet barely left the ground in the process to climb through. He went to the other side of the curtain and all of them changed. Hermione closed the window just as Madam Pomfrey returned to check on them.  
Madam Pomfrey had prepared a Draught of Dreamless Sleep for each of them. Siria sighed, but chugged it down. She laid back on the bed. The moonlight seemed to dull around her while the colors blurred then fell to black.  
(Book: B3, 421 they wake the next day & find the castle rather empty because people have gone to Hogsmeade.)

Sirius’s hand was at Hogwarts on her watch, so Siria set off to find him. She headed for Remus’s office. Through the door, she could clearly hear Sirius shouting. She paused to listen.  
“No one got bitten— you don’t have to leave!” Sirius shouted. Remus’s reply was calm and too quiet to make out through the door. Sirius’s voice fell as well. The door creaked open.  
“Hi.” Siria waved at Sirius. She poked her head into the room. “You’re not leaving, are you?”  
“See!” Sirius gestured to her while he looked at Remus.  
“I am.” Remus sighed. Sirius closed the door behind Siria. “Please,” Remus gestured for her to sit.  
The office had already been packed away. There was an empty tank, which once held a grindylow, his briefcase, and the Marauder’s Map. Remus looked even more tired than he usually did. Sirius’s black eye had been healed up overnight. Siria sighed but took a seat.  
“How can you leave us?” Siria asked. “You’re the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor! We actually learned things this year.” Sirius patted her untidy hair and she knocked his hand away. Remus clicked his tongue softly.  
“Siria, I know that no one got bitten last night, but” Remus stepped around his desk to lean against it, before her. “It reminded me of another close call.” His eyes flickered to Sirius’s face then back to Siria’s. “I can’t take any more chances.”  
“But,” Siria looked to Sirius for help. He raised his arms in silent surrender despite his protests before she entered the room. She bit her lip and looked back to Remus. “But I just need a clear night and then I can be an Animagus too— I’ll stop you from biting anyone.”  
“We don’t know what your Animagus form will be” Sirius started to reason, but Remus looked to him and Sirius fell silent.  
Remus knelt before Siria. “More than I can express, I enjoyed my time here, but we need to be able to go wherever whenever Dumbledore needs us. Chloe may complain, but she can manage Moony & Padfoot. It’s a lot more difficult to leave Hogwarts than the office.”  
“Peter is going to help Tom come back,” Siria whispered.  
“We can’t say for certain, but need to be ready.” Sirius told her. She raised her eyes to his. Sirius looked determined and confident. He had lost the look of worry that she may disappear.  
“You could stay here so Hogwarts could be safer.” Siria tried to suggest. They shared a silent smile. Dumbledore was here. Tom Riddle would never come to Hogwarts, even with an army, as long as Dumbledore remained.  
(Book: B3, 424 Remus tells Siria he’s very proud of her Patronus, which is a stag, like her father)

In the entrance hall, Siria said her goodbye to Professor Lupin. He left with Sirius, who handed her a blank and folded up Marauder’s map and promised to see her at the station in a week. The trio started to return to Gryffindor Tower when a sinking feeling filled Siria’s stomach. “I— I gotta go do something, real quick.” She told them. Siria headed back down the stairs, all the way to the dungeons.  
Her heart seemed to thunder in her ears and it had nothing to do with the exercise. Siria’s hand trembled inches from the door. She raised it and pulled to knock, but hesitated. Even if she wanted answers, he probably wanted to give her what she wanted even less than the Dursleys. Siria squeezed her eyes shut and knocked on the cold, hard oak door. It swung open.  
“What are you doing, Potter?” Snape snapped. He was standing before a shelf of jars. Siria’s stomach turned. She didn’t want to know what was pickled; most of the jars looked toxic. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. She released a shaking sigh instead. Siria cleared her throat.  
“Two years,” Siria’s eyes fell to the floor. She had felt she deserved to know then, but couldn’t find the time or confidence to seek Snape out and ask. Dumbledore had given her what he believed the answer to be, Siria knew she would only know for certain if she asked Snape himself. “You used a counter-jinx, on my broom.” Snape said nothing. He had stopped looking at the jars. Even with her eyes on the floor, she could feel his cold, dark eyes on her. Siria bit her lip and raised her head.  
“Why?” She asked. Her nails pressed into her palms. Snape crossed his arms and Siria felt like she was being sized up.  
“I do not need a reason, Potter, to save the life of a student.” Snape said it so coldly that a chill ran down her spine. Her right hand started to tremble.  
“I heard you did it because my dad saved your life,” Siria was not prepared for the glare on his face.  
(Book: B3, 285 Snape tells Siria that James saved Snape to stop himself from being expelled because James and his friends decided to play on prank on Snape that could have resulted in Snape’s death “if your father hadn’t got cold feet at the last moment”)

Siria’s throat was dry with rage. She glared over the rim of her glasses at him. “If he did it to save his own skin, I guess there was no debt—” her teeth clenched “So thank you, Professor.” Ever so slightly, Siria bowed the top of her head before she stormed out. Sirius would give her the whole story— the real story. Her head shook with fury.  
Even if her father and Sirius had played pranks on Snape, she hadn’t. She tried in Potions. She paid attention. She studied harder for it than anything only to be too stressed out with him leering over her shoulder for her to perform well. Sure, she thought he was the one trying to steal the Sorcerer’s Stone in her first year, but he looked very guilty. Siria growled under her breath as she continued to climb back to Gryffindor Tower. She wasn’t responsible for her father or her father-to-be.  
Against the floor before the portrait of the Fat Lady, sat Neville. His face lit up at the sight of Siria. “I forgot the password, again” He confessed. Siria sighed at the very thought of Neville. He was so good intentioned and tried is very best at everything, even when he usually failed at things. She didn’t understand how anyone could ever be as mean to Neville as Snape was. Neville could be Tom Riddle’s son and Siria didn’t know she could find it in her to do so much as try and trip him.  
They walked through the portrait hole. Snape seemed to weigh her down. The very thought of him was exhausting. She didn’t feel like he had saved her to pay a debt, but wasn’t sure she believed he didn’t have a reason. Plenty of other teachers saw what was happening and had not muttered a counter-jinx. Siria sighed again as she sat beside Hermione and Ron.  
“What’s wrong?” Ron immediately asked.  
“Nothing.” Siria lied.


	18. Questions, Again

**Questions, Again**   


On the final morning of term, Siria sat in her usual spot of the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table. She kept her back to the wall, was just a little closer to the teachers than not and sat beside Ron, who sat beside Hermione. Seamus Finnegan and Ron were in great spirits over the Quidditch World Cup. Siria tried to hang on to every word of past World Cups, but also wanted to come to her first one without raised expectations. It was Quidditch though, and so very difficult for her to expect anything less than breathtaking.  
Seamus stopped mid-sentence and looked behind Siria. She followed his eyes to the small, thin framed Astoria Greengrass, who had walked across the Great Hall from the Slytherin table. Astoria opened her mouth, but then closed it and dropped her head. Siria looked to Ron and he scooted into Hermione while Siria squished herself to Parvati. Ron patted the spot they managed to make between them.  
“What’s up, Astoria?” Siria asked. Astoria shrank into the spot they made, with her feet toward the wall and back against the table. She whispered something. Siria had never seen her so quiet. “Sorry, we’re a rowdy bunch.” Siria smiled and pulled her hair from her ear then leaned closer to Astoria. “Could you repeat that for me?” The quiet whisper got louder near the end.  
“...write me?”  
“I’d love to write you. It’s going to be full of nonsense about my dad though— Sirius is adopting me, so I’m totally going to follow him like a duckling this summer.” Siria told her. Astoria nodded very quickly and raised her head. “I expect to hear all about what you want to learn next year. Professor McGonagall already gave us permission.”  
“I can’t wait.” Astoria beamed. Siria patted her soft, brown hair.  
Astoria turned to Ron and Hermione. “Could I write you too?” She asked them.  
“Me?” Ron asked. She nodded. “Sure. My owl’s old and a little batty though, I don’ know when you’ll get a reply.”  
“I’d love exchange letters with you, Astoria.” Hermione smiled.  
“You can write to me and Padma, if you want to talk Divination” Parvati told her. Astoria’s face seemed to glow with excitement. She dove her arms around Siria’s middle, into a hug. Siria chuckled.  
Across the Great Hall, Daphne Greengrass, Travers and Warrington sat together, even with Siria. Siria nodded to them. Warrington nodded back. Travers waved one of her green painted, silver ribboned nailed hands. Daphne gave a half smile and looked back to her bowl of porridge. Astoria insisted on giving everyone that had agreed to write her a hug, before she returned to her table and the spot between Daphne and Millicent.  
The Gryffindor third years glared at anyone who seemed to look at Astoria oddly, which mostly only consisted of older Slytherin students. Siria clicked her tongue and glared fiercely at a sixth year Slytherin student until they looked away from Astoria. “If anyone so much as points their wand near that little ball of joy, I’ll—” Siria began.  
“Show them you’re the bigger person by not starting any fights.” Hermione snapped. Ron and Siria exchanged a speaking glance.  
“Sure.” Ron told Hermione. “That’s what we’ll do.”   
(Book: B3, 429-430 exam results come out. The trio has passed every subject & Gryffindor has won the House Cup. On the Hogwarts Express, Hermione tells them she’s dropping Muggle Studies— even though she had 326% in it)

“[...] I can’t stand another year like this one. That Time-Turner, it was driving me mad (B3, 430). Even with the three rooms in your trunk” Hermione looked to Siria, “I felt like I was about to snap.”  
“You know, you could have told me why you wanted the Cloak and trunk. I probably could have lied better than ‘she forgot something’.” Siria told her.  
“Yeah. People thought you were losing it, Hermione” Ron looked out the window to catch a last glance at Hogsmeade Station.  
“I promised not to tell anyone!” said Hermione (B3, 430). She swept Crookshanks into her lap with a sigh.  
The countryside rolled past them, they got a small collection of sweets from the candy trolley, and laughed into the afternoon. Ron insisted that Siria had to come to the Quidditch World Cup with them. “Sirius has to be going” Siria told him. There was no way he wouldn’t be interested in something like that. “Even if he doesn’t, he’s not going to stop me.”  
Their compartment door slid open and Siria practically growled. Draco Malfoy stood in their doorway. He gave a short glance down the hall of the train before he dove in and closed the door behind him. Hermione raised an eyebrow as Malfoy crouched down, beneath the window of the compartment door.  
“What do you want, Malfoy?” Ron barked.  
“Quiet, Weasley.” Malfoy snapped. Ron and Siria rose to their feet, but Malfoy stayed crouched on the floor. Hermione held out her arm to stop Ron and Siria from advancing. She spoke a little louder than she had been.  
“No,” She told them very clearly. “That’s really what he said.” Hermione’s round, brown eyes looked intently at them. Ron and Siria looked to each other, but sat down.  
“That’s crazy!” Siria said in a similar volume to Hermione’s.  
“Yeah!” Ron agreed a little louder. Ron and Siria continued to exchange puzzled looks until they heard voices in the hall.  
“Draco!” An unfamiliar, female voice called. “Come on” The girl called. Another girl made a clicking sound, as if she were trying to attract a cat. A few heads peered through the window of their compartment. It was a mix of Slytherin girls. They looked through and a girl with long, tidy black hair and green eyes raised her head at Siria. Siria bit back a growl, but glared at the girl. “Poor Potter.” The girl called through the window and left, laughing with her friends. Their cackles carried down the hall of the train until they were out of earshot.  
Malfoy rose to his feet and dusted himself off like he had been sitting in dirt instead of the compartment floor. “It’s your fault— Potter.” He tsked at her.  
“Excuse me?” Siria snapped back. Ron shot an arm over her to stop Siria from rising to her feet,  
“Haven’t you been listening?” Hermione asked. “Whenever we’re in the bathroom, it’s all anyone talks about.”  
“What?” Siria asked. To their surprise as much as Ron’s and Siria’s, Malfoy and Hermione shared an empathetic look. He quickly shot his head up to look down on them though.  
“Next time, I’m letting you fall, Potter” Malfoy told her and slammed the compartment door behind him.  
Siria gestured wordlessly to the door and Ron let go. “What is going on?” Ron asked. Hermione clicked her tongue and leaned into her seat.  
“Ever since Siria claimed Malfoy rejected her, he’s been getting asked out— daily.” Hermione told them flatly while she scratched behind Crookshank’s ear.  
“Ever since red cabbages were found, people have been buying more bell peppers,” said Siria. Hermione arched her eyebrows in such a way, she mirrored a young Professor McGonagall. “I don’t get it.” Siria tsked and looked to Ron, who shrugged.  
“Siria, if we went to school with…” Hermione thought for a moment, “Zendaya and she asked someone out and they rejected her, any girl that wanted to be better than her might try to ask out the person that rejected her. They’d think that dating the person who rejected Zendaya would make them better than her.”  
Siria let out a howl of laughter. “That’s crazy!” She gasped through her laughter, but Hermione’s face remained unamused. “You’re serious?” Siria stopped laughing. “First of all, that makes no sense and secondly, I— oh” Siria paused. “But like, I’m not famous for being pretty or feminine or being talented. I just didn’t die.”  
“But who’s Zendaya?” asked Ron.  
“A very pretty and talented Muggle.” Siria answered before asking “are they really hounding him over that?”  
“If it makes you feel better, apparently he’d let you fall next time.” Ron told her with a shrug.  
Crookshanks let out a large mew from Hermione’s lap. Siria looked out the compartment door window without seeing. “No…” she said quietly. “Malfoy may not have meant to catch me, but I think, if he’s close enough, he’d catch me again.”  
“Really?” Ron asked through a mouth full of Cauldron Cake, “Malfoy?”  
“Yeah.” Siria nodded. No matter how mean Dudley was to her, she always reached out to catch him when he tripped. It was pure reflex, like picking up something that’s been dropped.  
At King’s Cross station, Siria spotted Uncle Vernon at once (B3, 434). She turned to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who were with Sirius, Remus, and Chloe. Mrs. Weasley hugged Siria and Hermione in the mix of her children. Remus got a lot of waves from students that passed them. “She’s got to come to the World Cup!” Ron told Sirius.  
“We wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Sirius winked at him. He syphoned Siria from the crowd after she gave Hermione and Ron another hug.  
“See you soon!” Hermione waved as left with her parents.  
Chloe, Remus, and Sirius stood behind Siria, before the Dursleys who seemed completely unsurprised to see them. “As we’ve discussed,” Sirius said. Siria looked up at him. His face was surprisingly difficult to read. She looked to Remus, who had a similarly difficult face to read, wore the same smile he gave Snape when Snape told him that Neville was prone to accidents. Chloe was actually readable. She had the face of someone trying not to scowl, but clearly not succeeding. Her arms were crossed and she was tapping a set of perfectly done, midnight purple nails along the opposite arm. Chloe looked like she was ready to tackle Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to the ground of the station.  
Sirius placed his hands on Siria’s shoulders. She felt a rush of confidence she didn’t know she had lacked. She smiled and looked to the Dursleys. Sirius was going to adopt her, no matter what it took.


End file.
